The Tribulations of Peace
by Corralero
Summary: Somehow peace had become far harder than war. As the Pilots struggle to find their footing, they are offered what seems a reasonable solution. However when Duo reacts with violent misgiving relationships become fraught...They should have listened...
1. Negotiations

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Gundam Wing or make any profit from writing this.

**Warnings: **Occasional swearing, abusive situations later, annoying beaucrats.

**A/N: **Never thought I'd write enough of this to ever get it up! Please drop me a review and tell me what you think, all thoughts and comments gratefully and greedily appreciated. This is just exploring one possible senario of immediet events after the wars so not quite an AU but close enough - Anyway enjoy!

**The Tribulations of Peace**

**By Corralero**

_Peace achieved, the shattered world and colonial governments were left facing overwhelmingly taxing and complex political problems, not in the least the pressing problem of how to deal with the five Gundam pilots responsible both for peace and massive amounts of devastation and war crimes. This particular problem reached further complexity, as the Gundam pilots were at that time all minors with no surviving direct relatives._

(M. Schoinsberg, _The Complexity of Peace)_

**Chapter One - Negotiations**

Government negotiator Boyster walked purposefully from the latest council meeting, his secretary along side, issuing rapid instructions.

"Contact Ms. Peacecraft, informing her of our latest decision. Assure her agreement has been reached, at least for this stage."

"Yes, sir."

"Ring the agencies. We need to have them placed as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir."

"Contact those handling press releases. Tell them to stall a little longer, until events are more settled."

"Yes, sir."

"That will be all. Thank you, Jenny."

He strode on as his secretary peeled off, looking more than a little frazzled. Her expression reflected the general air that had permeated governments across the Earth and beyond. Peace was a wonderful achievement but it was as hard work as a war, full of constant decisions, communications, hastily given explanations to avoid terse misunderstandings and full of problem after problem after problem. The largest and more persistent of those problems was currently on the other side of the door he was now facing. He idly studied its green-varnished surface as he gently knocked. One wouldn't have guessed just by looking that this door guarded the entrance to the room that held the five most remarkable and dangerous individuals on the planet. Slowly he entered the room, nodding at the guard beside the door.

"Good evening, gentlemen. My name is James Boyster. I don't believe we have had the pleasure of meeting before."

Five pairs of alert eyes met him and a tension so palpable you could have touched it. He may not have met them but he had been studying their profiles, or what profiles there was, and discussing their fate since 6.00 am that morning. Gundam Pilot 01, Heero Yuy stood forward from the table he had formerly leant against, placing himself between Boyster and the other four. Clearly the leader, Boyster noted. He met the official's gaze squarely, holding out his hand.

"No, we have not met before. My name is Heero Yuy." Boyster took the proffered hand, feeling the firm grip and calloused fingers. "Sitting behind me is Trowa Barton, Quatre Raberba-Winner and Duo Maxwell. And this is Wufei Chang."

Boyster followed the direction Heero indicated, rapidly analysing and placing facts to the names and faces. Quatre Raberba-Winner, millionaire heir, nodded politely and gave a tired yet welcoming smile. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr Boyster." The others remained silent, Barton watched him intently while Maxwell peered up at him from where he sat slumped opposite the two others, long chestnut strands obscuring his face, not unlike Barton's. The opposite to this apparition of casualness sat on the window ledge at the head of the table with sleek black hair pulled into a tight ponytail. Wufei Chang stood slowly and bowed to him, more out of force of habit it seemed than true pleasure.

"Will you not take a seat, Mr Boyster?" He inquired. Boyster flushed slightly. He had been so concerned over his observations he had forgotten his manners. Swiftly he sat at the other end of the table as Heero took the empty seat next to Maxwell.

"Has there been some problems, Mr Boyster? We were led to understand we should have heard your decision at lunch time by the latest."

The tone was neutral and Heero's face unnervingly unhelpful in indicating what the pilot was thinking.

"No, no. None at all. In fact, I have come to inform you now of our progress. There is no cause for worry." Assurances done, he took a steadying breath and began to talk.

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Half an hour later Heero was staring at the pen laid before him on top of a single sheaf of paper.

"So, are we agreed then? Queried Boyster.

Heero felt the pressure that had slowly been building up in his head develop into a full blown headache as his eyes silently travelled around the room collecting resigned nods of acceptance from Quatre, Trowa, Wufei…then cobalt eyes met with violet as Duo gave a vehement shake of his head, lips compressed in an unhappy line. Heero's headache got worse.

"Is there a problem, Mr Maxwell?"

"Like hell there is! I ain't goin' in ta foster care." Duo snapped, his face stubborn. The other four pilots gritted their teeth as Boyster began to recite the platitudes and reassurances from earlier.

"It's only for a four week period, to allow us to assess then reassure the various governments and populaces of your fitness to live in society. I assure you will be near-"

"I don't give a shi-"

Heero quickly intervened as Boyster's frown grew, "Duo, enough! Would you mind please if I spoke to Duo alone for a moment?"

Boyster reluctantly nodded as the three remaining pilots rose, casting irritated glances at the unrepentant slouching figure. As they filed out and quietly shut the door they heard Duo's distinctly sarcastic tone behind them.

"What ya gonna do, Heero? Sucker punch me inta this one?"

Wufei exhaled an annoyed sigh as the others exchanged significant glances. This might take awhile.

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Inside Heero glance coldly at his best friend.

"You obstruct our purpose now? Why did you not speak earlier?" The frustration was evident in his usually monotone voice.

"Only coz I couldn't fit a word in edgeways what with Mr I'm A Government Official goin' on." Duo snapped back. "I ain't gonna be shipped off ta one of those foster homes. Those places suck." To underlie his statement Duo folded his arms, looking stubbornly down at the table.

"You will do what ever the rest of us do, Duo" Heero warned "We've all accepted the conditions. You are outvoted."

"I don't care. I'm not doin' it!" Duo yelled back. Why wouldn't Heero understand? He hated foster homes. Duo jumped violently as Heero's fist slammed onto the tabletop.

"You will do whatever you are told to do, Maxwell. Stop acting like a spoilt child."

Duo opened his mouth to respond, indignation in his eyes, but the Perfect Soldier's thin patience snapped as he grabbed the front of Duo's shirt, hauling the smaller boy forward until they were nose to nose.

He growled into the shocked face, "This is important, Duo. Get that into your head and focus on the bigger picture. None of us like what we are being asked to do but it is necessary. Start acting with some maturity and responsibility for once in your life."

Duo looked at him wide eyed, as Heero shoved him back into his chair.

"Anything else?"

The braided pilot shook his head numbly. Heero took a slow deep breath then reopened the door, quietly inviting the others back in.

"I assume there are no further problems?" Boyster inquired testily, looking over to the subdued Duo Maxwell.

"No, sir." Heero replied.

Boyster began to produce yet more documents from his briefcase, explaining as he did so, "I suppose officially, considering your ages, we do not need this procedure. However under the present circumstances we deemed it best that you sign and give us your consent." The papers were handed around and silence fell once more as the pilots carefully read and one by one signed the statements before them.

Duo bit his lip unhappily, keeping his head low as he signed. Once done, the pen was flung roughly down, ink splattering the page that was shoved unceremoniously at Heero as the Deathscythe pilot stalked from the room in high dudgeon, his braid swinging angrily behind him. Concerned, Quatre began to rise but was halted by Trowa's hand.

"Let him be."

Papers signed and hands shook, Boyster left the room, promising to be in touch and reminding them to remain within the compound until further notice. The four remaining boys were left to file out slowly.

"What did you say to Duo?" Trowa inquired.

Heero rubbed a weary hand over his face in an unusual show of emotion. His voice, however, was as measured as always.

"I simply told him to broaden his perspectives. This was not about him alone."

Silent nods of affirmation confirmed that he had acted right. In truth Heero was frantically worried, not only about Duo but about all of them. The intensity and uncertainty of the last few weeks of peace and the last months of war had taken a severe toll. He could see it on the four faces before him. What was more, the role of leadership, despite the equality and teamwork between the Gundam pilots, appeared to have been placed upon him by external observers. Consequently, although the others, in particular Quatre, aided him, he had found himself leader, spokesperson and, often, negotiator.

The enormity and importance of what was taking place caused his head to ache. It seemed strange that he, who had easily dealt with missions to save both the world and colonies, was struggling with a mission for peace. Yet this mission could not be completed with bullets and explosives but by words and appearances, while your every move was analysed by those proclaiming to be your allies. They, who had given so much for peace, must not fail. Why couldn't Duo see that?

TBC


	2. Up a Tree with No Canoe

**Disclaimer: **See first chapter.

**Warning: **Not for those afraid of heights.

**A/N: **Big thank you to Camillian, Rein, Sadie Woods (Clever reviewer! Good guess - its amazing how space and sympathy works!), Lesser God (Glad we clarified that point - hope Duo's a bit better in this?), Kami-Crimson (oo-er, hope i live up to the expectation now!). See how reviews work, wasn't going to put this up until next Sunday! Apologies if Duo does come across as short tempered, this is partly influenced by how he appears before the wars, plus both he and the rest of the pilots are under huge stress atm - it gets to a guy. Anyway, read, enjoy and tell me what you think!

**The Tribulations of Peace**

**By Corralero**

_**Government Document: CLASSIFIED INFORMATION** _

_Character Assessments of the Gundam Pilots regarding their Temporary Foster Care Placements, provisionally dated 27th May. _

_Compiled by: Mrs L. Jupp_

_**Barton, Trowa: **An extremely quiet, shy boy. Appears timid of meeting and speaking to strangers, although observed reasonable, if limited, interaction with peers. Often seems disinterred and distanced from proceedings. Possible signs of mistreatment._

_**Chang, Wufei: **Strongly respectful of established elders and guests. However, a little impatient and short-tempered. Confident nature. Came from established background with intact family structure. Family deceased. _

_**Maxwell, Duo: **Indicated behavioural problems and attitude problems. Rebellious and reluctant to partake and answer questions. Reactions and excuses given by others suggest ongoing problem. _

**Raberba-Winner,** _**Quatre:** A charming young man! Well-balanced, polite, sensitive to others and their needs. Appears emotionally stable and mature for his age._

_**Yuy, Heero: **Quiet and intense young man. At times appears unsure of how to interact in society. Sometimes a little unresponsive emotionally, but courteous, considerate and helpful both during and after procedures. _

_**Further Comments: **The nature of this case requires care to be taken but especial attention should be paid to placing Trowa Barton into a considerate home while I recommend that Duo Maxwell be placed where firm discipline and handling is available. _

_(Source taken from _M.Schoinsberg, _The Complexity of Peace)_

**Chapter Two – Up a Tree with No Canoe**

They didn't see Duo at the late lunch they prepared. Nor was he at tea. Unconcerned they settled for the night. It took a lot to truly piss Duo off, but when he did get into a strop the four other pilots knew from experience that it took him awhile to cool off, but tea had been a sober affair without Duo's usual chatter.

When Duo failed to appear for breakfast the following morning, however, slight frowns cross the usually stolid faces of Trowa and Heero, while Wufei huffed in concerned annoyance and Quatre bit his lip. In unspoken agreement the four friends began to search.

Three hours later and they were still looking. The compound to which they had allowed themselves to be confined to was set in pleasant parkland with a small house situated in the centre. Pleasant it may be but to one such as Duo it provided limitless opportunities to remain out of sight. The situation degenerated further still at the unexpected arrival of Boyster along with representatives from the organisation that would be handling their placement into foster homes. As they watched their approach towards the house from the kitchen Quatre turned to the others.

"Stay here and make our excuses while I find Duo."

Without waiting for a reply, he slipped quietly out the backdoor and stood on the patio, mind racing furiously over the possible overlooked hiding places. Finally he trotted off towards the small wooded copse near the boundaries of the compound. Trowa had already looked but one never knew. Once there, his eyes began scanning the bushy undergrowth to no avail. Then a thought struck him. Whenever upset, Duo had a tendency to climb up – onto the roof, up his Gundam, into a…tree. Slowly his vision tilted upwards to meet a pair of violet eyes. Duo had scaled a large oak and was sitting on a broad branch as casually as if it were a couch, apparently ignorant that he was some twelve foot off the floor. Now he was peering curiously down at the blond haired teenager below him.

"Lost somethin', Quat?" He inquired.

Quatre smiled innocently upwards, "As a matter of fact, yes. It's about this high." He raised his hand to his own height, "Black with a long braided tail, answers to Shinigami."

A faint giggle rewarded his efforts then silence fell. Quatre sighed. "Am I going to have to climb up there?" More silence. Quatre's head swam at the thought of being so high off the ground without Gundamian steel surrounding him. Slowly he began to climb as Duo watched, eyebrows raised in surprise. He knew how much Quatre hated heights – almost as much as he hated foster homes. Quatre did quite well, all things considered, getting to perhaps eight feet before he halted, looking pleadingly upwards as he clutched at the tree trunk.

"How about a compromise?"

Duo nodded, fair was fair after all. He swung himself down easily to where Quatre sat straddling a thick, sturdy branch. He smiled across at the unusually quiet braided boy and produced an apple from his pocket.

"Hungry?"

Gratefully, Duo accepted and devoured the offering. Once his mouth was finally devoid of food he sat back.

"Thanks, man."

"You're welcome." Came the reply. Quatre looked curiously at him, "Did you stay out here all night?" He inquired shrewdly. Duo shrugged nonchalantly.

"It's warm out. 'sides needed a bit of time ta think an' clear my head without Heero or Wufei tryin' ta kill me."

"They don't want to kill you, Duo." Quatre said quietly.

"Yeah?" Duo snorted "Sure acted like it." He chewed on his bottom lip, fiddling with the end of his braid. "Kinda needed ta cool off as well." He said finally.

"Look, about yesterday-" Quatre began hesitantly but Duo cut him off with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I know, Q-man. An' I'm sorry 'bout that. Promise I'll play along now an' be good."

"Oh I know that." Quatre waved a dismissive hand, he was all too aware of Duo's dogged and intense loyalty to his friends. It was, in Quatre's opinion, one of Duo's most admirable qualities. For someone who seemed to befriend everyone he touched, it took a lot to truly earn the American's friendship, but when you did it was near impossible to lose it again. "What I wanted to know is what's wrong, Duo? Why don't you like foster homes?" He finished compassionately. Duo looked at him askance.

"Was I that obvious?"

Quatre wrinkled his nose as he continued. "I just want to understand. From what I hear the system had many admirable qualities and successes."

Duo rolled his eyes, "Yeah an' so did Treize apparently." Quatre frowned sternly at him, refusing to allow the subject to drop. The braided pilot raised his hands in surrender.

"Fine, fine, whatever. It just don' work for me, ya know." He gave an uneasy laugh, his hand coming up to rub the back of his head as he avoided Quatre's eyes and tried to explain what he could. "None of 'em ever wanted me. They all hated me, sent me back. Guess I can be pretty annoying, huh?" He forced a brief laugh, "They'd take anyone 'cept me." He mimicked in a high cultured voice of long ago.

"Oh, Duo." Quatre sighed "Don't worry, it'll be different now. We'll still be here."

Duo's shoulders squared as he raised his eyes, any vulnerability covered with rebelliousness.

"Yeah, well don' worry 'bout it, Quat." Nimbly he stood and began to climb downwards. Quatre followed his progress with his eyes, inwardly wondering what the other had not said. Duo's past was a rocky area and Quatre was well aware that there was still much they didn't know and perhaps would never know. He had, for example, had no idea anyone had even tried to foster the strong-headed mischievous individual, let alone how the process had gone. He couldn't help but wonder whether the problem had not lain at least partly within Duo's causing. Then abruptly, as Duo reached the bottom, he began wondering something far more practical.

"Umm, Duo?"

Below him Duo looked up questioningly.

"A little help?"

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Things were moving so fast that Trowa was left feeling slightly bewildered. Within a week of Boyster's appearance with the sickenly condescending Mrs Jupp from the placement services, who had rubbed all of them, even Quatre, up the wrong way, they had been notified that appropriate homes had been found for all of them which they could move into tomorrow. The one good thing about the sickenly condescending Mrs Jupp was that, unbeknown to her, she had gone someway to at least chip, if not break the ice that had frozen between the pilots.

They had laughed over Duo's impressions of her later on that evening as he had carefully placed three sugar cubes in front of Wufei, asking loudly and slowly if he would like one, sliding one cube forward, two, sliding another forward, three, sliding the final cube to join the others, lumps of sugar in his tea? He persisted in this manner of address towards Wufei until even Heero was clutching a stitch in his side and until Wufei eventually erupted, stomping off to practise some particularly violent hand-to-hand combat moves outside and throwing a plant pot at Duo's head when he informed him it was nine o'clock and high time he was in bed. Yet despite his clowning around, Duo still wasn't quite right. Trowa could see the fidgeting, the slight awkwardness in his usually fluid movements.

The Jupp woman really had brought out the worse in Duo, Trowa thought. A side that had surprised the Heavyarm's Pilot for it's sheer rebelliousness and truculence. Duo had been scathing, irksome and moody. Trowa had seen flashes of this side to Duo before, in particularly strict or militant school, when adults and authority backed Duo into a corner and suffocated the wild streetchild within him. And Trowa understood, perhaps more so than the others, though for most of his life that he could remember he had been under the thumb of the mercenaries. He understood the instinctive distrust of adults and authority, the foolishness of handing the reins to another. He was, they all were, fiercely independent, but he and Duo had been surviving on their own since before they could remember, in ways that even Heero had not. Still, he mused as he packed up the few belongings he had in his room, the allied government's method of ensuring their safety to the public was a bitter pill to swallow.

An abrupt knock on the door roused him from the wandering paths of his mind. He glanced up as Wufei entered. The Chinese boy spoke.

"The car is waiting. Are you ready?"

He nodded, zipping up the duffel bag Cathy had brought him. Briefly he wondered when he'd see her again. Stepping out into the corridor he saw that Wufei too held a duffel bag. Once outside, they walked over to join the others who were loading their bags into the boot of a dark, sleek, official looking car, which was to take them to their destination. Trowa stared for a moment at the five duffel bags seated in a row in the boot. That was it. That was all they'd come out of the war with. Mentally, Trowa shrugged as he slammed the boot shut. To his mind they were lucky to come out even with that.

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The car journey was not the liveliest trip they'd had. Deathly silent would better describe it as each pilot was sunk deep into his own thoughts. Duo's face was carefully blank, his eyes shuttered. Quatre's attempt at polite conversation failed miserably as he himself became distracted. The car drove on and on and on. It wasn't fair, Trowa thought, as he rested his head against the window. By rights they should have been celebrating, perhaps with the comrades they had found during the war. Sally, Cathy, Howard, the Sweepers, Releena. Instead they found themselves once again sequestered, unable to even contact them. He felt a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth. First lesson of life: It wasn't fair. Second lesson? Deal with it. He couldn't remember who told him that. Whoever it was they were far too right for his liking. The car swung into what appeared to be the parking lot for a local school in the suburban outskirts of Chicago. He sat up a little straighter, soldier instinct kicking in as his eyes swept over the area, noting cover, exits, visibility and weather conditions and the five people standing next to the eternal Mr Boyster and Mrs Jupp.

**To Be Continued...**


	3. Enter Mallinson

**Disclaimer: **See First Chapter

**Warnings: **Mild Swearing

**A/N: **Cheerful and pathetically happy thank yous to my reviewers. **Camillian **- mind reader! **Furiousderagonmaji** - fab reaction, sorry to get you hetted up! **Millardo Mergues **- You changed your name? **Solitaire **- Glad I captured your attention! **Kami-Crimson** - Wow! lol, thanks! Funny, though, it disappeared later - that always seems to happen to you. I'll try and correct that spelling error as well. Thanks to you all!

Please, if you get a chance, leave a review. I'd love to hear what you think and any suggestions you might have! Now read and enjoy!

* * *

**The Tribulations of Peace**

**By Corralero**

**_Certificate of Military Discharge_**

_Sergeant Timothy Mallinson is herby dismissed from his post, duties and responsibilities within the 3rd Regiment of the 2nd Marines on charges of dishonourable conduct and disorderliness in a civilian area…_

_(Extract of a Certificate of Military Discharge found along with other military documents relating to Sergeant Mallinson on the desk of Mr James Boyster, an influential Government Official during the aftermath of the wars.)_

**Chapter Three – Enter Mallinson**

Of all the positions he could have possibly been in at the end of the war, Duo had never once imagined this. Six feet under, locked in some OZ cell, back on the streets, working with the Sweepers, the Preventers, sure, any of the above, but just not this. He was standing uncertainly in the living room of a small maisonette in not the nicest part of town, holding the duffel bag he had just lugged in from Mallinson's beat up old jeep outside. He hadn't received any help. Behind him the door shut and he turned around quickly to find Mallinson standing right before him, suddenly looking a lot less friendly than when Duo had first met him. Inwardly he gave a knowing smirk. _So now it starts. Knew I didn't like the bugger. _A finger pointed belligerently at him.

"Right, kid, listen up coz I'm only going to say this once. My house, my rules. I'm running this joint. You do what I say, no arguments, no shit, no nothing. Step out of line and you deal with the consequences. Got that?"

Duo stared at the man's heavy face, his ears ringing oddly. Through gritted teeth, he forced out a "Yes."

The finger jabbed him in the chest, hard. He clenched his fists and forced his breathing to remain even.

"That's 'yes, sir'."

"Yes, sir." Duo spat back. He met Mallinson's green eyes squarely, refusing to back down. The man grunted as he swung away. Duo dropped his head towards the floor, staring up at Mallinson from under his long chestnut fringe. The man was tall, dark eyes, dark hair, rough dark stubble shading a heavy jaw in a heavy face with a strong, broad physique, dwarfing Duo's petite and slender build. He fitted easily into the role of ex-marine Duo had him pegged at. Duo's attitude of unease and suspicion heightened as he scanned the room in which he stood. A small untidy living room, complete with sagging, worn brown sofa and chipped, unpolished coffee table, and a dingy kitchenette, smelling of smoke, and underneath, of stale beer. It was not unlike some of the less affluent safehouses they had sometimes used. And that, he decided, was what was causing the unease. The place lacked a woman's touch. His mind drifted back to the easy explanation that slipped from the stranger's lips as they had all stood in the car park, adults apparently at easy, in control, while the Gundam Pilots had stood, uneasy and strung out. Only Mallinson and Trowa's carer, a tiny grandmother of a figure had come along. _My wife's out of town for a few days. _Duo snorted to himself. Sure. Resignation flowed through him. He knew something like this would happen. It always did.

Mallinson stuck his head back around a door and indicated to Duo to follow. He did so, absentmindedly, his thoughts tumbling over events and facts until they were jerked abruptly from their track by a hard hand clamping around his upper arm. He jumped then forced himself not to react.

"You ignoring me?"

Wordlessly he shook his head no. Mallinson's eyes narrowed and Duo could already see the sparks of a vicious temper smouldering behind them. He looked away as if disinterested, unable to completely give in, and was shoved roughly into a small windowless boxroom. Glaring at the man, he flicked his gaze over the room, remarking disparagingly, "Nice view of the wall, man."

Mallinson gave a snort, "Think I'm stupid, boy? Think I don't know what you are? You ain't going nowhere without my say so."

The smartass comment was out of Duo's mouth before he could stop it. "An' which army's gonna stop me then?" _Oopps, that's gonna make Heero mad_. A stinging box around his right ear left his head ringing as he staggered slightly in surprise. Recovering, he whirled around angrily but Mallinson was already out the room, his voice echoing back, "Dinner's in half a hour, brat. And I ain't waiting for you."

* * *

Thirty-five minuets later he had unpacked his meagre belongings and was flopped on the thin mattress of his bed. He didn't think he could eat anything right now. His appetite had been off for a few months now. _Prob'ly stress, _he thought vaguely. And he sure as hell didn't want to go near Mallinson. He knew the others would be furious if they knew how he was behaving but he couldn't help it. He didn't care. It was as if the man was deliberately trying to provoke him. He didn't trust him, he didn't like him and he was certain the sentiments of dislike were heartily returned. Yet he had promised. Promised to be a good boy and not to let the side down. And Duo Maxwell didn't lie. He kicked at the bedside table moodily, his usual carefree smile gone, replaced by a dark frown. He knew he'd have to at least give this a go. A thud on the wall made him look up.

"Stop that bloody racket."

The door swung open and Mallinson stood, glaring on the threshold towards where Duo lay casually on the bed, arms folded behind his head, legs dangling, still idly kicking the cabinet.

"You're late."

Duo struggled not to say the sharp retorts that sprang to mind. Instead he sprang up, holding out his hands, placating.

"Sorry, man. Ya know how time flies." He slipped agilely past him and moments later stood in the untidy kitchenette, staring at the food stains on the cheap plastic surface, still mentally berating himself. This was important, he needed to make an effort. He picked up the chipped plate of macaroni the man shoved at him and flopped down on to the sagging couch. Mallinson sat down next to him, switching on the small TV as he went. An old comedy blared out. He took a bite of the tinned food, then another, wrinkling his nose at the taste.

"Ya like comedy, huh? Reckon they'll be churning the stuff out now the war's over." He talked out loud to Mallinson, who ignored him, staring at the screen. Canned laughter rang out. "So…wha' else do ya like? Saw some pretty cool action movies while back. Some of those guys kick ass!" Duo frowned in irritation as the man continued to ignore him. "Hey, Mister! Ya gonna talk ta me or wha'?"

Mallinson finally turned to face him. "Listen, kid. I get paid for taking your sorry ass in for four weeks and for keeping you in line. I don't get paid to hear you talk. Now, keep your trap shut and don't talk unless you're spoken to. Got it?" His voice was soft as he leant in, crowding Duo's space. With his head pushed back against the sofa and no where to go fast, Duo suddenly felt threatened and mentally cursed himself for placing himself into such a vulnerable position. His gaze flickered away as his smile faltered.

"Sure, man. Whatever ya say."

Mallinson smirked, glad he finally seemed to be getting to this kid.

"Good."

* * *

His first night in foster home and he was alone. Eight o'clock had come in sullen oppressive silence and Mallinson had abruptly announced it was Duo's turn with the dishes and he was going out. Nine o'clock had come and Duo was once again stretched out on his bed. The room was driving him mad. No windows, no space. For a streetkid it was suffocating and Duo was slightly anxious. When the lights went out it would be total darkness because he certainly wasn't going to sleep with his door open, not with Mallinson outside. And despite darkness often being his greatest ally, a streetkid never really did sleep well in complete blackness. There was always something to alleviate it. The moon or the streetlamps to light the way. He bit his lip. The emptiness of the small dingy apartment washed over him once more and suddenly he missed the others quite desperately. Quietly he walked over to the house phone. Fishing the scribbled page of contact numbers from his pocket. Scanning it, he hesitated. Who should he call? Heero? Nope, bad move. Didn't want to piss him off too much. Wufei? Ditto. Trowa? Na, didn't fancy having a completely one-sided conversation. So that left the most logical choice anyway – Quatre.

Dialling, he listened to the steady ring until…

"Hello?" A bright female voice answered.

"Umm, hi. Er…I was wonderin', is Quatre around?"

"Oh." The voice sounded a little surprised then went on warmly, "You must be one of his friends. Quatre has told us to much about you." _He had?_ Duo thought, _Quatre should be more careful._ "Hold on, dear. Who's calling?"

"Duo."

"Quatre! Duo on the phone for you."

He heard a faint reply, a bang and then…

"Thanks, auntie!" Quatre's voice was breathless and cheerful. He sounded completely at home, Duo thought with a sinking feeling.

"Auntie?" He realised too late how derogatory he sounded.

"Is that you, Duo?" Quatre inquired, for once oblivious to the other's mood. Apparently the 'space heart' didn't work through telephone wires.

"Yes, we decided it was better than Mr and Mrs Thompson." Mallinson had decided 'sir' was better than anything.

"So how's it going?" Quatre inquired happily then rushed on without waiting for the reply, "You'll have to come round at some point. The house is lovely and she's almost as good a cook as Trowa!"

It felt strange but the normally talkative Duo seemed to be doing a great impression of Trowa himself. He fiddled with the end of his braid, twisting it into the curling telephone cord.

"S'alright." He eventually muttered, "We watched a bit of TV an'-" He was cut off by a breathless giggle.

"Sorry Duo, I'd better go. Fenna wants something…" There was a yelp and a squeal then Quatre was gone, leaving Duo to conclude that either Fenna was a very forward female or a dog and feeling somehow even lonelier than before. With a sigh he wandered back to the box room to flop once more on the thin bed. His face brightened momentarily as he thought of school the next day. School. He enjoyed school, enjoyed meeting the new people, learning, even just being normal. Besides then he'd see the others all-day and there would be no bloody Mallinson. The smile slipped a little as he shrugged. As far as he was concerned school just couldn't come fast enough.

**To Be Continued...**


	4. Because I Could Not Stop For Death

**Disclaimer:** See first chapter.

**Warnings:** Swearing, intimdation.

**A/N: **Hey all! First off few quick things to clear up - atm the main reason updates are so quick are largely due to the fact a large proportion of the story is already written and typed and also I'm not yet back at uni, so have lots of spare time, so this is a mild warning that at some point updates may get less regualar and less swift...just in case! Secondly, once again childish delight and overexcitment at the lovely reviews recived! **Millardo Merques **- It was the fault of the underlining, I swear! About Quatre's relatives, firstly i thought they all died, or was it just his father? But largely its due to the fact that basically noone fully trusts the pilots, so are conducting this test as a check to see if they're 'safe' for society so they are unwilling to release custody to relatives etc. if that was the case then Sally and Howard would be right in there checking the boys were ok! and, ugh, stupid stupid stupid - i added in the dark eyes _knowing _i had writen green somewhere but i couldn't find it! must change that or it'll just bug me! **Jellybean-kitty **- simple answer, none! none of the girls really figure in this and i'm never keen on intoducing madeup characters unless they're brill. And I don't write slash - absolutely nothing against those who do, its just not my thing. so this is a straightforward friendship/brotherhood peice hope that doesn't ruin it? (Anxious looks) **Kami-Crimson **- This one hung around! Know what you mean about guilty pleasure! Poor Duo indeed, it does get worse...as **Sadie Woods **expected! Bang on the head C**amillian **and **Rynn,** but to be fair they do have alot on their minds at the moment!

To all, Please read on, enjoy the next bit and let me know your thoughts!

**The Tribulations of Peace**

**By Corralero**

_Pensby High School had long been acknowledged as one of the most successful state run and funded school in the USA, achieving grades both consistent and high. However Pensby High's board of governors and teaching staff pride themselves on achieving more than academic excellence and strive hard to continue the school's long established tradition of creating an atmosphere conductive both to study and to social development, producing well rounded students with keen interest in wide ranging extracurricular activities. From debating to music to sports, Pensby High aims to encourage students to expand their experiences and horizons._

_(Extract from Pensby High School's Prospectus.) _

**Chapter Four – Because I Could Not Stop For Death**

School, however, came all too fast. Duo had woken late, swearing as he realised he had once again forgotten to replace the batteries in his alarm clock and rushing to ready himself in ten minuets flat. Glancing around as he secured the end of his long braid, he saw Mallinson lounging in the kitchenette. So apparently he had survived last night. Duo hesitated.

"Er, 'bout me gettin' ta school…"

"You're walking." The man snapped back, "Haven't got time to take you there. I'll pick you up afterwards. I want you back in this house at four everyday. You got me?"

Duo stared at him angrily, exclaiming, "That gives me ten minuets! Ya could have told me yesterday."

"You'd better get running then."

The Deathscythe pilot glared at him for a moment then spun around and ran out the house. Mallinson smirked as he leant further back against the counter. Of all the pilots, Maxwell had been singled out as the most obvious source of trouble by both the foster home agency and government officials. And the ex-sergeant understood why. Bad history, bad attitude and reluctance to change. The kid's scathing approach to adults and authority (a.k.a. Mallinson) was clear on his face from the moment they met and Mallinson knew the only way to deal with delinquents like these was simple – brute force and iron discipline. The brat would be a challenge, but Mallinson did not like to fail.

* * *

He sprinted all the way, lean fit body straining to make it. With barely a minuet to spare, he dashed into the school grounds just in time to see a car pull up. He slowed, trying to control his breathing and watched in surprise as Trowa slid out, followed by an elderly grandmotherly figure. His eyes widened in disbelief as the woman preceded to give Trowa a brief hug with a gentle smile and unheard comment. Trowa had ducked his head, a blush staining his cheeks, but Duo heard his soft reply. 

"See you later, Mrs Pullin."

Duo rolled his eyes.

"Hey, Trowa!"

Trowa glanced around and nodded in greeting, walking casually towards him.

"Nice ol' granny, huh?"

Trowa shot him an unreadable glance. "Yes". He paused. "How was your first evening?"

Duo shrugged half-heartedly, opening his mouth to reply, but he was cut off as a teacher approached them.

"Duo Maxwell and Trowa Barton? Welcome to Pensby High. If you would like to follow me to the headmistress's office?"

Silently the pair followed the teacher's back down the wending corridors to a neat airy office where Heero, Quatre and Wufei already sat facing Mrs Blackhall, a tall stern figure of authority. She smiled and rose to greet them as they settled themselves in the two remaining chairs. A moment of silence prevailed as she studied them, curiosity crossing her strict features.

"Well," She said eventually, "Welcome to Pensby High. As I understand the situation, you are here only for four weeks but I hope that your time here will be profitable and worthwhile." _Didn't mention enjoyable_, Duo thought darkly "The students and staff are being informed that you are war orphans, placed here on a temporary basis while more permanent homes are being sorted. I'm sorry for the deceit but we were informed that it was best to keep your identities secure." She collected nods of affirmation before continuing. "I should warn you that the united governments are asking us, along with your foster homes, to monitor and report your progress. Therefore we shall treat you like any other students. No exceptions shall be made. I expect you to adhere to the school's high standards of work, ethos, discipline and presentation." Her eyes lingered on Duo's untidy state and half tucked shirt as he straightened defensively.

"Mr Maxwell, if you please?"

He withheld a frustrated sigh, feeling the other's eyes upon him as he stood and tucked in the offending garment. He offered her a wide smile.

"Sorry, Miss…umm" _Crap, what was her name?_ "'Fraid the alarm clock didn't go off. Had ta run a bit."

Probably not the best of things to say he realised later as the reply came tartly back,

"Then perhaps you should hone your skills of punctuality, Mr Maxwell."

_Bitch._

He stopped listening after that as she droned on and on until finally they were allowed to file out. He contained himself, barely, until they had at least past the door.

"Sheesh," he muttered "What a bore."

"Duo." Wufei admonished. He scanned the lists of classes they had been given. "They split us up," He informed them.

Heero looked up. "How?"

"By surname, alphabetically." A funny look crossed his face and they knew what he was thinking. They had been 01, 02, 03, 04, 05 for so long that any other order felt strange, unnatural. After a pause Wufei continued.

"So Trowa and I are in CU while Duo, Quatre and Heero are in CY."

They looked over his shoulder at the map of the school as he indicated to their respective form rooms. Duo bit back a snigger at the concentration on the other's faces, knowing they were doing exactly what he himself had just caught himself doing. Memorising the route and the layout of the school, along with central areas and key exits points. This peace thing was sure going to take a while to get used to. Hearing his stifled giggle Heero had raised an inquiring eyebrow, opening his mouth to speak, but as the bell rang for first period he simply looked away from the map and Duo, to glance and nod farewell to Trowa and Wufei.

"We will see you at lunch."

* * *

Pensby High was a large grey institute, which seemed to have acuminated in a growth like fashion over the years, building upon building, floor upon floor, corridor upon corridor of endless lighting. And it was exactly like every single other school that they had attended. Teachers, lessons, bells, students. Boring, boring, dull, dull, dull. What the hell was the matter with him, Duo thought irritably. As boring as lesson could be, he had always loved meeting new faces yet somehow today, this week really, he couldn't be bothered. This whole fucking mess was just riling him up the wrong way. 

He jumped as Heero poked him sharply in the side, glaring at him. He glared back.

"Wha'?…oh."

The whole class was staring at him. He waved weakly.

"As I was saying, Duo." The English teacher gave him a disapproving look. "What do you think the symbolism in _The Only Ghost I Ever Saw _represents?"

_The symbolism to what? Oh, the poem. _Duo looked blankly down at the said poem. There was an excellent sketch of the damaged parts to Deathscythe that he needed to replace but somehow he didn't think that was quite the answer she was looking for.

"Death?" He eventually volunteered lamely, unable somehow to summon the energy to make the song and dance of humour that normally got him out of trouble. She sighed and without replying directed the question towards another student. He rolled his eyes at her back and turned to be met by Heero's frustrated glare.

"It's only been two days, Duo. Can't you keep out of trouble?" He hissed.

"Oh, I'm sorry Mr Perfect-"

"Mr Maxwell!"

This time the voice was thunderous. His body jolted in surprise. She was standing directly in front of him.

"Talking out of turn, failing to pay attention, disrupting the class and these" she rapped a ruler across his poem's doodles "Are not correct annotations. I'll see you here tomorrow lunchtime for detention, please."

"Hey, lady…" Duo began in indignation, but she rode right across him.

"It's Mrs Jackson and unless you want an after school detention, I suggest you be quiet."

* * *

If Duo had been in a bad mood before the English incident, it was nothing to afterwards. 

"Thanks a lot, Heero!"

They were walking towards the school gates as the hot sultry summer air rumbles with thunder above them. Trowa and Wufei cast Duo curious glances as he stormed past where they leant against the school wall.

"What happened?" Trowa inquired as Heero and Quatre approached.

"Duo got detention." Quatre replied miserably. Wufei looked disapprovingly at the smaller braided boy.

"Duo!"

"It wasn't my fuckin' fault!" Duo shouted back angrily, "Ask Heero."

"Watch your language." Wufei replied sharply. Duo's eyes blazed back at him as he muttered "Bugger off, Wu-man."

Seething, Wufei clenched his fists and started forwards, but Quatre cut across the brewing fight.

"Guys, please wait until later if you must. Are you still all coming back to mine."

Duo crossed his arms sulkily.

"Can't. Gotta get back for four."

The others regarded him suspiciously. Eventually it was Trowa who asked, "Why do you have a curfew, Duo?"

Duo's temper flared again. "I dunno! Ask him. Didn' do nuthin' if that's what ya think."

Their hasty denials fell into awkward silence as the clouds finally broke and rain began to patter down around them. Quatre shuffled uneasily.

"We'd better be going. We'll see you tomorrow, Duo?"

But the 02 pilot's eyes remained stubbornly shut as he leant against the grey wall. Slowly they turned and walked away. Quatre looked disapprovingly at Wufei, who on catching the look snapped "What?"

Trowa answered for him.

"You shouldn't have let yourself be riled up by Duo. You know what he can be like in these moods." Wufei snorted in reluctant agreement.

"It wasn't his fault." Heero suddenly added. "I spoke to him first, and the teacher caught him replying." The guilt on his face spread slowly to the others.

"We were unfair on him." Wufei conceded then he straighten resolutely. "We'll make it up to him tomorrow."

* * *

Mallinson never did turn up. Duo had stood there, swearing steadily under his breath until gone half past four. Finally with a snarl of frustration, he shoved himself of the wall and started to slowly trudge down the street. The route that had taken him minuets to sprint two mornings ago took near on thirty minuets. Somehow he couldn't quite summon the energy or the desire to get back quickly despite the thunderous weather. He turned the final corner, skirting around a huge muddy brown puddle that was pooling around the overflowing gutter, watching how the yellowish streetlights caused the dancing rain to sparkle as it leapt back into the air from the pavement, when a lorry hurtled around the corner, sending a tidal wave of filthy water crashing straight into him. 

"Shit!"

Pawing the water from his eyes, he walked the last few steps to Mallinson's house, streams of creative curses falling from his mouth until he realise he didn't have a key. No way to sneak in, legally at least. Wearily he rested his soaked head against the door as the angry energy completely deserted him. Sighing in defeat, he rang the bell.

Five tried later and he was shivering with cold. Abruptly the door yanked open to the extent of it's security chain and a section of Mallinson's face appeared, oddly out of breath. His eyes flickered over Duo's soaked and trembling body, sardonic amusement shimmering. The door slammed shut. He hadn't said a word. Duo smashed his fist against the wooden panel angrily, only to see it wrench open again. Then he was dragged roughly inside. Teeth now clenched with cold, he shoved Mallinson's hand off his shoulder, tilting his head back to look defiantly up at the man.

"You're late."

His mouth fell open in astonishment.

"Isn't there something you should be saying to me? Five word, brat."

"You need a better diary?" Duo hazarded. He refused to flinch as Mallinson shoved him back, crowding him against the door. He tensed, automatically preparing to fight, but froze, his breath still rasping, wide eyes staring over the man's shoulder into the darkened room as Mallinson's deep voice growled roughly into his ear.

"It's about time I made a report, don't you think? They'll want to find out how you've been settling in, won't they? How you've been behaving. You broke curfew, brat. Think I better report that, don't you?"

He'd been here less than three days. Detention and broken curfew. Shit, even to him that didn't sound impressive. Well, not in a positive way. He could hear the man's smirk as he spoke. He knew he held all the cards.

"So, what about those five words. Why don't we do it this way? Repeat after me; I'm sorry I broke curfew, sir. Well, that's six words, but what the hell."

"I'm sorry I broke curfew, sir." The words felt bitter in his mouth. The unfairness burnt and he squeezed his eyes shut in anger

"Good enough for me." The tone was mockingly reasonable. His breath caught in his chest and he coughed as Mallinson shoved a towel roughly into him. Then he was gone and moving back into the master bedroom where a woman lounged against the doorway, wearing Mallinson's shirt and an amused expression. _Wonder why Mallinson was late, _Duo thought sourly as Mallinson caressed the woman's rump as she slid past him into the dim chamber. Uncomfortable, he averted his eyes but looked back unwillingly as Mallinson spoke again.

"Oh yeah, your punishment. No food, no drink, no shower. And you're grounded to your room."

Like he said, foster homes sucked.

**To Be Continued...**


	5. Between Sleeping and Waking

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter One.

**Warnings: **Not Really...

**A/N: **Thanks again to **jellybean-kitten, Camilian, Quiet-lil-kris and Kami-Crimson** for your lovely reviews. 'Fraid they don't notice quite yet - sorry! And told you all I'd take longer to update when I was at uni - which rocks! Love uni!

As always, please review and let me know your thoughts!

* * *

**The Tribulations of Peace**

**By Corralero**

_I didn't know you tried to see us. I'm sorry, I would have let you in but the guards didn't tell us. They don't tell us much at all really but we have all agreed it is best to be co-operative, at least until things calm down, but thanks for trying. I miss you and the circus and everything I suppose, even the war in a way. I guess it's the freedom that I miss…It's hard for us all although I think we are all keeping well. There hasn't been any serious attempts to kill each other, well, not too serious. And that in itself as you well know is a miracle, so we are trying…I'm not sure when I'll be able to see you next, or even if I'll be able to send this letter, or even if this letter will get to you. I've heard that everything is shot to pieces by peace. But I hope you're well and are safe. Stay with the circus; that will be safe. Or if not, find Sally and Howard, they'll look after you. I just wish I could. _

_Until we meet again, _

_Trowa _

_Extracts from an unsent letter addressed to Catherine Bloom found amongst the property of Trowa Barton, Gundam Pilot 03. Used with the kind permission of the Bloom family._

**Chapter Five - Between Sleeping and Waking**

He woke that night, struggling for air, tears racing unchecked down paled cheeks, from the grip of a twisting, merciless nightmare of blood and faces, blows and cruel words, of horrific actions, of death and violence and war. Muffling his sobs, he chocked out the names of his comrades, his brothers, blindly reaching for comfort, support, stability, but they had gone. He had awoken to the pitch-black emptiness of his room where he still shivered with undiminished cold. His mind, still dazed with memories, was unable to separate the room from yet another OZ cell and he lurched to his feet frantically, stumbling across to the door, needing to get out…out. He groped for the handle, mind whirling with relief as it twisted open and suddenly, he wasn't quite sure how, he was out on to the pavement below, gazing blearily around in the grey dawn light.

He frowned, scrubbing away the tears, shivering, wrapping his arms around himself for warmth, still unnerved by the intensity of the dream. He paused for a moment, deliberating, then set resolutely off. Screw Mallinson, there was no way he was going back in. He'd walk to Quatre's, a good few miles away, then walk with him into school, seeing as he was the only one who walked apart from Duo. That way he'd get some exercise, kill some time, clear his head, defy Mallinson and spend some quality time with Quatre all in one stroke. Pleased with the plan, he grinned to himself, allowing the peaceful morning and his naturally buoyant personality to work upon him.

* * *

The walk took a good hour and a half. By the time Duo was standing admiringly by the gates leading to a handsome house the sun was well up, the chills of his walk home had finally been chased away and he was looking forward eagerly to some good company, his sociable and generous nature forgetting yesterday's incident. He bounced up and down slightly on the balls of his feet, waving as the Sandrock pilot finally emerged from the front door. 

"Duo?" Still vaguely sleepy, Quatre gazed at him in befuddle surprise.

"The one and only." He beamed back. "C'mon, man, we're gonna be late."

Quatre chuckled bemusedly, "I take it you're walking into school with me. I didn't know you lived so close."

Duo rolled his eyes, ignoring the statement and swung around. Beckoning his friend on impatiently. Stepping out briskly into the morning sun, Quatre shook his head fondly, glad to see Duo in a better mood. Then he frowned. Duo raised an enquiring eyebrow.

"Huh?"

Quatre's eyes drifted slowly, taking in the braided pilot's dishevelled state. "You're not going to school like that are you? You look like you just rolled out of bed."

Duo flushed faintly, suddenly conscious of his crumpled, slept in clothes, his sleep deprived face, his tangled and loosened braid. Sheepishly he rubbed the back of his neck, then laughed, his face creasing in to a mock innocent expression.

"Why? What's wrong with it?"

Quatre's exasperated, amused reply was lost as the 02 pilot's laughter rose as the pair continued on their route to their third day at Pensby High.

* * *

Ok, so maybe life wasn't all that bad, Duo conceded, stretching out on Wufei's comfortable rug. The day had really been rather good. He had set off to a good start, walking in with Quatre, making himself presentable en route, straight into an genuine apology from all four pilots before the bell rang for first class, then on to a ball of laughs in drama watching Heero reluctantly do a dance movement drama and, really, lunch time detentions were rather fun, he reflected, watching Wufei and Trowa play chess. He had quite enjoyed himself, scraping chewing gum off the underside of desk with a chisel, imagining with relish exactly which pieces were Mallinson's ear, Mrs Jupp's eyebrow and Boyster's nose. And Mrs Jackson wasn't all that bad once you got to know her a bit. Now he was relaxing with the others around Wufei's foster home after having completed (at the others' insistence, despite his arguments that homework was set precisely for you not to do) their various assignments. He had been surprised at how _nice_ Wufei's carers were. Genuinely nice, Howard-and-Sally-and-Rashid nice, trustworthy nice. He didn't know that these sorts even went in for foster care although he vaguely assumed it must be the case. They suited Wufei too, he though almost enviously. A doctor and a magistrate. Honourable and upright people, well respected. He could almost imagine the three of them sitting around the dinner table debating philosophical ideas and stuff. It made him anxious. He didn't want to lose his brothers to any adults, nice or not, because he certainly wasn't suited to Mallinson. 

He had most cheerfully accepted Wufei's invitation back, happily grasping the opportunity not to go back to that dingy apartment for as long as possible. Screw the curfew. If Mallinson couldn't be arsed to pick Duo up, then Duo couldn't be arsed to stick to his side of the bargain if that's what it could be called.

But the fallout caught up. It always did. The conversation had turned to their various carers and, deeply engaged, they vaguely registered the faint ringing of the telephone somewhere deep in the Rider's comfortable modern house. They had listened with interest to Heero's 'report' of his carers and the curiosity of the four pilots finally swung around to the conspicuously quiet Duo. At their casual questions he fidgeted uneasily, playing with the end of his braid and biting his bottom lip. Slowly he began to speak but at the sound of a vehicle pulling up outside and the ringing to the doorbell, he paused and the five shared glances of confusion.

"Surely it's too early…" Trowa began, but Duo cut him off with a resigned

"Oh, crap."

For through Wufei's window he could see the battered old form of Mallinson's jeep that was meant to pick him up at four thirty outside the school gates.

Silence fell. Duo could just feel the atmosphere plummeting several degrees. Heero was shutting off, probably to stop himself from throttling him. He didn't quite dare look at the Japanese boy. Instead he glanced towards the others and swiftly decided that the looks of disapproval and disappointment weren't much better. An abrupt knock sounded in the silence and Dr Rider entered, all earlier joviality gone. His eyes met Duo's sternly as the braided boy looked defiantly back. He frowned slightly.

"I think you had better come downstairs, Duo." The words were quietly said, not threatening, not yelling, but with an authority even Duo didn't defy. They all went, trooping down the stairs into the spacious hall in ominous silence. Mrs Rider and Mallinson stood together near the door, the women apologising profusely.

"I'm so sorry, Jim. I had no idea any of the boys had a curfew. You must have been worried sick."

What occurred next took Duo completely off kilter. The man looked up, past Mrs Rider's shoulder, to see Duo walking reluctantly towards him and then he was smart, oh so smart. The deception took Duo's breath away. Relief spread across his face, angry relief as is to be expected, and he strode towards Duo with questions and statements of concern and Dr Rider was assuring and Heero and Wufei was apologising and ignoring and he was silent and silent and there was no where to run and no where to hide as a hand clamped over his shoulder in a mockery of fatherhood and there was no lie to tell as he wasn't the one lying anyway and he was being steered towards the door and down the drive and into the old rusty jeep as the grip on his shoulder got fiercer and tighter and harder as they drew away from the house and the anger and the fury grew in his eye as the concern and the relief vanished from his face for the relief had been everywhere except in the back of his eye where no one had thought to look and there was no where to hide.

* * *

Instincts. Trowa had lived on them, survived by them and honed them and now he sat on the foot of the Rider's stairs, listening vaguely to Wufei's tirade, and he could not ignore the sudden pounding anxiety racing through his still body. Had he imagined it? Construed Duo's reactions out of nothing, painted the flinch, the uneasiness, out of air? That Duo loathed his carer was painfully and embarrassingly apparent, as he had stood unrepentant in the Rider's hallway, but fear him? They had endured much and fear did not come easily to a Gundam pilot, but there had been a wariness, an anxiety, ill concealed as the 02 pilot was steered from the house. So why was he so unsure? He blinked. Peace was so confusing. He had longed for it, fought for it, bled for it but he could feel it draining him, sapping at his skills, at who he was, in a way war never did. Or was it he himself, shutting himself down, knowing what required of him? He knew he was and he hated it. _Three weeks, three weeks. Then what? _He left the silent question unanswered. Deliberating for a few moments more, he leant over to where Heero sat on the step below him, touching him lightly on the shoulder. The 01 pilot looked up, his face still intimidating with lingering rage, but Trowa was undaunted. 

"Duo-" He began, but he was abruptly cut off.

"Is putting us all at risk."

Trowa nodded. That was a truthful assessment, but nevertheless he continued.

"I'm concerned for him, especially over tonight's behaviour."

Heero's features hardened.

"I'll deal with it. I have to smooth this over with the Governments and the Preventers first but I shall find time to deal with Duo tomorrow."

He dropped it. The Perfect Soldier had his mission, had his plan, yet the unanswered question rose unbidden once more. _Then what?_

**To Be Continued...**


	6. Boiling Point

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter One

**Warnings:** Swearing, violent and arguementative behavior

**A/N: **Thank you for lots of lovely reviews! Bang on the head, Krystal and Camilian and wow, thank you to Michinori, I'm glad you enjoyed it so much! Thanks for picking up on the longer sentance, yes it was creative liscence in a kind of James Joyce's Ulusses type manner!

Anyway, now the pace picks up a little as Heero and Duo finally go head to head!

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**The Tribulations of Peace**

**By Corralero**

_Various schools of thought have formed in a heated debate regarding the motives prompting the Gundam pilots in their actions after the war's end. Documents preserved from the era suggest their contemporaries were as surprised by their actions as historians today. Revisionist historians blackened the Gundam Pilots' name in attempting to pin a more sinister motive upon the five pilots… but recent evidence combined with a resurgent and fresh post-revisionist perspective has led_ to a new school of thought that the Gundam Pilots' motives were much more pure hearted than previously supposed.

(T. Remell, Soldiers or Slayers: A Study of the Gundam Pilots)

**Chapter Six**

**Boiling Point**

"I am not certain we can commit to those terms...…No, I need time to speak to the others, time to think…...No, I can't decide for them...…Yes, I'm sorry for the delay…"

He dragged a hand through his unruly hair, closing his eyes in silent frustration. Pushing. They were always pushing. Wanting more promises, more restraints, more checks. According to Boyster, some colonies were unhappy with the placements, there was talking of a trial, of court material – what can you give us? The tone was almost greedy. The Gundam Pilots were vulnerable now and the political world seemed to have as many predators as the jungle. And they had been talking to him, hassling him for two hours. Thank God Boyster rang, he would have hated to give the Cowell's such a phone bill. Even now they were looking slightly askance at him…oh…dinner.

"I am sorry, Mr Boyster, can we continue this later?…...my tea." He sighed, "Yes, later tonight is fine...…" Eventually he hung up.

_Be polite, _Releena had warned him. _Sweeten them, charm them. _

He was trying.

"Dearie me, they do work you hard." Anna Cowell tutted as he finally joined them at the dinner table. He gave her a small smile. The retired elderly couple who had taken him in had taken him aback with their warmth and generosity, their acceptance and commendation for what he had done during the war. It was different, yet strangely similar, to his friendship with the other Gundam Pilots, but he had never expected to find it again. Yet it was oddly reassuring and supportive to have an adult, not just some crazed scientist or fanatical soldier, but a normal adult, to reassure and encourage him. From what Trowa, Wufei and Quatre said, they felt the same way. So why was Duo pushing that support away? He was being irrational; refusing to take what good could possibly be gleaned from this situation. Sighing, he steered his thoughts away from his erstwhile friend before he bent his cutlery in frustration. With an effort he turned his attention to the old couple's chatter about their day. _Funny_, he mused, _I always thought Duo was strange, to talk so much. Perhaps he wasn't so unusual after all._ With a grimace he caught his thoughts yet again, shaking his head. Why did all roads seem to lead to Duo at the moment?

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Dinner was a leisurely affair, conversation and appreciation of Anna's cooking skills stretching it out to over an hour, the opposite to Heero's usual swift and economic fashion. Finally they moved onto dessert just as the doorbell rang. Marcus glanced up. "Be a good lad, Heero, and get the door, will you?"

Heero nodded his acquiesce and went into the hall. Habit and training led him to glance though the peephole right into Duo Maxwell's upturned face. Furious, he yanked the door open to glare silently at the small slender figure standing on his porch, surrounded by Anna's flourishing and riotous pot plants and hanging baskets. There was a long awkward silence as the nervous grin slipped from Duo's eyes and froze on his mouth. He bit his lip apprehensively. Heero narrowed his eyes as behind him he heard Anna entering the hall. Reaching a swift decision, he jerked his head abruptly.

"In."

"Who is it, Heero dear…oh."

Heero had moved aside just in time to allow Anna a full view of Duo stepping warily into her neat home. The Cowells were a lovely couple but rather traditional in their thinking. Heero could see the slight frown of disapproval cross Anna's wrinkled face as she took in Duo's long braided hair, scuffed leather jacket and mutinous features. Duo had 'inappropriate' stamped all over him.

"Anna, this is Duo Maxwell, a friend of mine."

She smiled faintly but Duo made no response, crossing his arms over his chest and studying her intently. She shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, looking intimidated and glancing to Heero for reassurance. He gritted his teeth. They never failed to astound him, Duo's mood swings. If the Deathscythe pilot wanted it, he could have charmed Anna around his little finger, long braid or no. Instead he was closed off, truculent nature emerging full force, making himself as unattractive as possible and being damn near impossible to handle in the process. He moved forward, between them and saw Anna relax once more. He forced a brief smile, one which Releena would have called cold.

"Excuse us, Anna. May I use the living room?" She blinked in surprise then collected herself admirably.

"Certainly, dear. Go right ahead." He opened the door to the cosy chintz living room, glared at Duo to enter and followed him in shutting the door firmly behind him. He turned to find Duo standing by the mantle piece, facing him across the rug, jaw set stubbornly.

"What are you doing here?" The question was sharp and unwelcoming and he saw the faint look of hurt come and go into the other boy's violet eyes. Then Duo gathered his spite.

"'Scuse me for callin' on a friend. Where else do ya want me ta go?" He sneered back. Unmoved, Heero folded his arms across his broad chest.

"How about back to your foster home."

"No."

The answer was low and unmistakably decided.

"For hell's sake, Duo. You are under curfew. You are already in enough trouble."

"I don' care." Duo suddenly snarled out. "Don' gave a damn, Heero, I ain't gonna go back there."

He saw the spark of temper flare in the Prussian blue eyes as Heero opened his mouth, and matched the other boy's anger with his own, the true reason tumbling out in a flood of furious resentment, trying hard once more to make Heero see and turning a blind eye to the undercurrent of desperation he knew was rippling too close to the surface.

"He tried ta hit me, Heero! I didn' do what I did justa get knocked around by some bastard. So shove this up Boyster's ass 'cause I've had it. I'm outta here." He turned to leave but Heero grasped his wrist in an iron grip, swinging his left arm upwards, dragging the slightly smaller teen closer to him, effectively immobilising him. The Perfect Soldier's face was impersonal, blank, as he spoke in a cool flat voice.

"He tried to hit you. Well done to him. I can fully understand why. I am tempted to do so myself, Duo." He felt Duo jolt, as if shot, beneath his grip, then slowly go rigid as he continued relentlessly. "I do not give a damn about what he does to you, Maxwell. You stay at your post and you take it. You do not fool around, you do not fight back. You give him your utmost obedience and respect. Got that?" His grip on Duo's wrist tightened. Duo gasped in pain, eyes glittering with unshed tears as he spat out "Fuck you, Yuy."

He braced himself imperceptibly as Heero's free hand went up but it never reached his face as the argument was interrupted as Marcus Cowell's weather beaten face poked around the door along with the household phone. His bright blue eyes took in the scene before him and widened in surprise. He clear his throat as Heero lowered his hand, saying cautiously, "It's Mr Boyster, Heero, but…if it's not a good time…"

"It is fine." Heero replied tersely, and maintaining his grip upon Duo's wrist, he reached for the phone. "Yuy." There was a lengthy silence as he listened stoically to Boyster's loud tirade, of which Duo caught fragments, wincing as his own name was repeated again and again. Watching Heero's tired face he felt a twinge of guilt. _Did I do that, _he thought, looking at the shadows under the cold blue eyes. Finally Heero spoke.

"I have got him. He is here with me now...…Yes, we have talked." Duo snorted softly at Heero's choice of words but was swiftly subdued with a glare. "No!" Heero's voice was suddenly strongly urgent and intense. "No, that will not be necessary. I shall deal with him…I can handle him fine…...Mr Mallinson does not want him back tonight, yes I completely understand…...I am certain he can stay here tonight…..." Duo wondered if this was what troublesome dogs felt like, their fates, actions and shortcoming bandied about through conversations over their heads as they were chained up, waiting for the authorities' decisions. The irrelevant thoughts flew from his mind as Heero finally hung up, dropping the phone onto the sofa and levelling a furious look towards Duo. He swallowed. If Heero had been angry before the phone conversation, it paled into insignificance in comparison to this. He felt the bones in his wrist grind together and winced.

"You nearly put Mallinson into hospital." Heero's voice was low, dangerous. Duo tried to respond but was cut off by another jerk to his wrist. "Are you a complete fool? Even if, and I repeat if, he tried to hit you, you didn't need to hospitalise him." The grip on his wrist shifted, tightened, as Heero's rage grew. Duo yelped in pain.

"You're gonna break it." He warned loudly. Heero looked down in surprise at the white knuckled hand clenched around Duo's forearm and slacken his grip. Duo took advantage of the momentary respite, ignoring the pain.

"Ya don' believe me?" That hurt, that really hurt. "What the hell- ya know I don' lie. What the fuck is wrong wit ya?" He asked in frustration. "What was all that crap just now? Ya their little pet, jumpin' through all the hoops?" The American's tone was mocking as he continued, "So where's Heero Yuy, the 01 pilot gone, huh? Ya just rollin' over for 'em, give 'em wha' ever they want? 'Coz they ain't gonna stop askin'-"

"Duo!" Heero's voice snapped out like a whip. "Boyster was threatening to place you under armed confinement. He wanted you under guard, in jail." For once Duo was speechless, wide-eyed with shock. Heero went on grimly. "I am doing what is necessary. I am pulling my weight, like the others, trying to make this work and you" he glared at the other teen "Are making it hard. You are getting in my way and you are obstructing our course. Now are you a part of this or not?"

Duo closed his eyes, feeling trapped once more as Heero's relentless voice wove words and loyalties around him. _Are you part of this? Are you a Gundam Pilot? Are you our brother? Yes, yes he was. No, he wouldn't abandon them or obstruct them but…_helplessly he looked up at Heero, trying again.

"But Mallinson…" He was filled with shame as he voice came out timid, uncertain, pathetic even to his own ears. And Heero rode right over him.

"I do not care…"

Said it all really.

The terrible unfairness of it all washed over him along with the swelling tide of guilt for the trouble he knew he was causing. He was Duo Maxwell, he lived to cause trouble, but not like this. Pranks and mischief were all very well but he knew when to draw the line and Duo Maxwell was no fool, he knew this left the line far behind him, disappearing into the distance. But still, he was Duo Maxwell, more than just a troublemaker, they _knew _that, they knew he didn't lie, they knew him, they had fought with him, lived with him and still they didn't believe him, he who didn't lie. The pain of abandonment rose in his chest so he could scarcely breathe and argument became hard. He didn't matter. Not in the grand scheme of things, not after the war but it still hurt that he didn't seem to matter even to his friends. He stared up into Heero's closed off face, his wrist shooting pain up his arm and felt sick with betrayal. Exhausted by the long confrontation, suddenly he just wanted to run, run and hide, until everything came right again. Struggling faintly, he tried to pull away before it was too late, because he knew he would give in, knew his heart and loyalties would do anything for his friends and he knew it was too late.

Heero watched his best friend carefully, watched as calculated words crossed his lips and less calculated words were spat out, watched as they played the battle of wills like so often in the past and watched as the stubborn nature was slowly worn down, tamed and contained, watched and waited until the moment came. Eventually he felt it, a weak tug at the strong hand clamped around the slender wrist as a tired voice mumbled, "Let me go, Heero."

But he held on, just a little longer, until the shoulders slumped and the chestnut head bowed, it's blazing fire reduced to ash.

"Are you going to do as I asked?"

The 02 pilot remained silent so he pressed still further, finally holding out a treat, a reward, after the beating.

"Do as I ask and you can stay here tonight rather then returning to Mallinson's."

It was callous, he knew. Underhand and sly. But by this stage he no longer truly cared.

Wearily Duo nodded and finally Heero released his wrist, watching as the other cradled it and was unable to meet his eyes.

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The last of the day had faded by the time he stepped outside the living room again, and velvety blackness surrounded the house. The Cowells were sat, anxious in the kitchen, pretending they hadn't heard the violent exchange. Eventually he convinced them to house Duo for the night. Anna helped him to find bedding upstairs. She was unusually quiet. Feeling uncomfortable, Heero eventually spoke.

"I am sorry, Anna, for tonight. I did not intend for this to happen."

She turned to him at last, her pleasant face serious and looked at him as if she had never quite seem him before.

"We always wondered, you know," She said at last, "How a boy as nice and polite as you could have been a soldier. And I think tonight we saw some of that side in you." She had been frightened, Heero realised with a flash of insight, frightened by Heero, frightened by Duo, and by their actions. And they hadn't even meant to frighten them. He stared at her old face and suddenly felt even more tired than before. He didn't know what to say.

"I am sorry." Eventually he managed the words that felt thick and clumsy. She smiled tiredly and went slowly downstairs, leaving him standing on the shadowy landing.

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Once he would have looked forward to his best friend's company for the night, having missed his chatter and easy fellowship but Duo that night was not his Duo, silent and subdued and lifeless, all fight and energy spent. He didn't look at Heero all evening, lying down quietly on the floor to sleep to leave Heero sitting uncertainly on his bed, wondering whether to say goodnight then hitting his pillow in wordless frustration at the other's fickleness. He didn't speak to Heero during breakfast, nor during the car ride to school. He didn't speak up as Heero explained events to the others during break or throughout the others' rebukes and lectures or, in fact, throughout the entire school day. Eventually the bell rang, signalling the end of the final period of the week, maths. The clanging noise was joined by the cheerful noise of students planning their weekends, packing their bags and flowing towards exits and freedom. Duo was up quickly, moving to join the throng, but Trowa was quicker, shooting out a hand to catch him by his left wrist. He frowned as Duo hissed in apparent pain and slackened his grip. Reluctantly violet eyes met green.

"Spend tomorrow with us?" He queried. The eyes dropped and searched the pale green surface of the desktop as Duo wordlessly shook his head.

"Why not?" Trowa pushed, hoping to get something, anything, out of the unusually quiet boy. Duo's face tightened with some wordless emotion as he finally spoke, his voice low.

"Do ya want me ta do this or not?"

"Of course we do." Heero snapped from the far side of the table, where he was packing his bag. Duo pulled his injured wrist easily from Trowa's slackened grip.

"Then I'll see you on Monday." Came the dull reply.

And then he was gone.

**To Be Continued...**


	7. Rule Number One

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter One

**Warnings: **Violence, child abuse, swearing, alcohol and mention of drugs.

**A/N: **Whoa! Thank you SO much for all the reviews - there were so many! Over the moon that you liked the chapter, it was a fun but hard one to write, to keep it going long enough to really wear poor Duo down, poor poor Duo, I'm afraid he really does get it in this chapter. Hope you all enjoyed it and thanks so much to my lovely reviewers - I will hopefully get round to a reply but atm a 3000 word essay on 18th century newspapers is calling my name!

* * *

**The Tribulations of Peace**

**By Corralero **

_"I care not what Ms Peacecraft and Zechs Merquise claim. The Gundam Pilots are a potential threat to our new era of peace and they must be contained. I cannot emphasise this enough. These are not boys we are debating, but men, killers trained to the highest degree, or do we forget so soon the devastation caused not only by OZ but by the Gundam Pilots as well. If they cannot or will not adjust to civilian life and prove their commitment to peace we must be ready to take action to destroy this threat. I strongly suggest that measures must be taken now to ensure this situation does not grow out of hand and that any dissent or threat can be swiftly dealt with."_

_(Extract of a transcript of a trans-government discussion concerning the fate of the Gundam Pilots the day the decision was taken over foster care.)_

**Chapter Seven **

**Rule Number One**

He sat feet propped up on the table, hand clenched around a tumbler of whisky, more shaken than he cared to admit. Lifting the glass, he swirled the pale amber liquid around, admiring the colour. Tossing it back, he winced, first at the burn tracing from his throat to his stomach and then at the pain the movement had caused. He had, he reflected bitterly, been given a kicking. Not quite as bad, of course, as he had made out to Boyster. He certainly didn't need hospital, but his ribs and head protested loudly at most things while the rest of his body would be colourfully decorated for quite sometime. He poured himself some more whisky. A better painkiller that that shit the doctor Boyster had insisted on sending around had given him. Grunting with discomfit, he eased himself up a little straighter on the sagging sofa, cursing the cause of his predicament in his mind. A 15 year old little shit who didn't even know his real name. Watching the whisky again he notice his hand was still trembling. He threw back the shot. The hand steadied a little. Good.

He had had some vague idea what he was messing with. After all, who hadn't heard of the Gundams? And some friends still in the marines had given him vivid first hand accounts of the terrifying destruction to marine and army bases. But he had reckoned a Gundam Pilot wasn't so tough without several tons of Gundamian and explosives to hide behind and his theories had seemed justified when he had first seen the slight teenager with more attitude than bulk and a mouth bigger than his fists. So, yeah, he thought he knew what he was dealing with.

So he had messed with the kid's head. He had threatened, pushed, bullied and jeered at Maxwell and had watched with satisfaction as it got to the kid. It was fun and he was only following orders. Then it was time to take it to the next level, time to see how far he could push it.

So he hit.

And nothing but nothing could have prepared him for the lash back. It had happened not long after he'd dragged the reluctant and unrepentant teenage back into the flat, locking the door behind him. Then he had turned, smirking and confident. The blow would have been a good one, a sharp backhand high across the cheek.

But it never even landed. His hand had swiped though air and even as he swore with confusion and whirled to find the pilot, Maxwell had begun as his foot lashed out, sinking into the other's stomach and pitching him forward only to be snapped sideways as his head collided with a well timed roundhouse kick. Furious and dazed, Mallinson had lumbered to his knees but he never even got to his feet. Maxwell's movements were the sleek, fluid movements of a killer, deadly and as fast as a snake. And his face was almost unrecognisable; there was no charming grin or sullen resentment, instead a cool focused mask, while the eyes blazed with anger. Eventually Mallinson's head hit the unrepentant floor with a resounding crack and he knew no more.

When he did come round, it was to an empty flat with a wide open door. Maxwell had gone.

And now he was coming back. In an hour precisely, when school ended. Then the whole weekend stretched ahead of them. Mallinson was a bully. He didn't like to be made a fool of and he was certainly sharp enough to learn from life's little lessons. He had a whole weekend for payback and he would be certain to use it. He scratched his unshaven chin. Today had been most productive, having chatted to several old mates of his. Next time he took on the brat he wasn't going to do so alone. But then, he smirked, even that might not be necessary. His latest conversation with Boyster drifted though his mind. It had been worth it, he reckoned. A beating for this latest news. For between him, the Governments and the other Pilots, they had the brat so pegged down he would scarce be able to move. Still, he figured better safe than sorry.

He tossed down a third whisky.

And it certainly wasn't going to be Mallinson this time who was sorry...

* * *

First rule of the streets: Never put yourself in a position you can't get out of. Never run yourself down a blind ally, always know your exits, never trap yourself. 

Well, that rule was shattered, broken into pieces around Duo's feet, along with all those possible options and exits. His hands were tied with a rope far more disabling than a mere physical restraint. Tied by promises, threats and loyalties. And they were proving most effective, forcing him to act against his nature and against his instincts. Nothing could be more dangerous.

Second rule of the streets: Follow your instincts, react to your feelings. Life and Solo had taught him that. Then Father Maxwell, Dr G and even Heero fucking Yuy. So what the hell was he doing here? Oh yeah, Heero fucking Yuy. The second rule added nicely to the growing pile by his feet.

He stared, fixated by them, trying to imagine exactly what a shattered pile of rules would look like. Then an empty beer can clattered to the floor in front of him, scattering the imaginary pile into clouds of dust of a wandering mind. He had jumped and roars of masculine laughter applauded his reaction, emitting from the five very masculine men sitting around the table in Mallinson's living space, surrounded by beers, spirits, joints and cards. Mallinson picked the best of mates, Duo thought darkly. Clearly soldiers or marines, they varied in shapes and size and looks but when it came down to it they were all substantially bigger and stronger that Duo, oh and apparently on the opposite side of the war to him. Great, just great. He didn't know who was who, and didn't particularly care to, they weren't exactly going to become his best buddies over the next few hours, if the cruel glint in their eyes and the amount of alcohol consumed was anything to go by.

He had been standing here silently for hours, uneasily in the kitchen, ever since he had made the monumental mistake of coming out of his room at precisely the same time Mallinson had returned with friends.

"_What you up to, squirt?"_

"_Getting' water."_

"_Sure, go right ahead."_

The air was heavy with the thick cloying scent of weed and the sharper tang of cigarette. Duo swallowed, feeling nauseous as the smell clashed with his empty stomach. His stomach. Of course, what else would get him into such a mess. Mallinson had refused to feed him for two days and on hearing Mallinson's exit he had headed swiftly to the kitchen, hoping to have at least some water to fill his stomach with. Mallinson had allowed him the drink but only at a price.

"_Heading back so soon? Not very sociable, is it lads? Why don't you just stay here?"_

With four men between him and his bedroom there was little choice about it anyway. Besides, he reasoned, why delay the inevitable? Sooner or later they would have come in there and dragged him out anyway. He rubbed his eyes, his sight was swimming and the feeling of nausea was increasing to a violent pitch. Swallowing roughly again, he resigned himself to that bitch called fate and began to move quietly towards the door, longing for a breath of fresh air. Absorbed in the game of poker, the men failed to notice his stealthy movements and the game continued unabated. Slowly he reached for the handle, aiming to open the door just a crack so he could breath in the clean night air. Then the clunk of the door rattling against resistant locks echoed around the suddenly silent apartment.

"Off out, brat?" Mallinson's tone was humorously pleasant as he turned to the other men. "Told you he was a tricky sod."

He turned around, pasting a casual grin on his features, knowing it was useless.

"Na, changed me mind."

He stepped reluctantly away from the barred door, along the stretch of wall leading to the bedrooms. Mallinson stood up.

"Thought you were told to stay in the kitchen?" Another of the men spoke up. Duo remained silent.

"You're right, Pete." Mallinson agreed when it became apparent Duo wasn't about to reply. He walked around the sofa, padding towards the teenager. "But you don't learn, do you? Here I am giving you another chance and you still don't get it." He was standing right in front of him. "So, I guess it's time for a lesson."

In every fight there is a crucial moment where the outcome and the fates of the participants hang in balance, where one move, one thought, one decision can shift the whole course of events. Duo had held that knowledge from an age too young to remember, and the lesson had been further hammered into his being through a series of ruthless lesson during the war. He knew that there would come a certain point beyond which he could not win. He was, ultimately, a child within an adult world. In a simple contest of strength against strength his slight build and small stature stacked the odds firmly against him. He simply did not have the raw physical strength of the fully-grown soldiers against which he was pitted. He did not have Heero's unnatural strength. Instead he relied upon wits, speed and skill and had become all too painfully aware of that critical moment.

And now he stood and watched it slip by. Because of his friends, because of Boyster and the Governments and because of his bloody pride and promises. He hesitated, wearied by uncertainty and indecision and watched that moment disappear out the door as Mallinson's fist arched upwards through the air, driving forcefully into his ribcage and slamming him back into the wall. The shock of the impact was still struggling to register as more blows followed, made worse by the solid unforgiving wall behind him, leaving him unable to roll and ride with the fists. Mallinson gave him a vicious backhand across the face and finally stepped back a pace, allowing the braided teenager to slide slowly down the wall, collapsing at the bottom to fight for breath, his abused abdominal muscles crying out in protest. He gritted his teeth against the pain, refusing to give in. Laughter reached his ears.

"He's not up for much, is he?"

"This is a Gundam Pilot, lads. This is what we've all been cowering in our bunkers over!"

"Maybe it's his turn to cower now. Reckon he'll want his mummy?"

More laughter. He forced his eyes open to see not one man but five in front of him. Slowly he reached up a shaky hand to wipe blood from his swelling bottom lip. Mallinson hadn't hit him that hard on the head so he guessed his mates had joined in the party.

He could have fought back. Several times in fact, as their booted feet slammed into his body and their strong fists wound into his torn shirt to drag him off the ground. They were cocky and drunk and left openings to exploit. But at first he held bitterly to his promise, not even sure why he did, and then when he no longer cared for or could even remember the promise, it was too late, he didn't have the strength or the speed to fight and then he could no longer see the opportunities as he curled into a ball under their violence, focused simply upon survival, trying to limit the damage to himself as pain became his world.

**To Be Continued...**


	8. Hedgehogs

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter One

**Warnings: **Violence, abuse, swearing, angst

**A/N: **Hey all, thanks again for all the lovely reviews – it's so good to know that people are enjoying the story. Sorry I upset you all and I'm afraid we still have a way to go before things get better, Duo is one unhappy bunny at the mo! Hello to my new reviewers, thanks for taking the time! And lots of hugs to my awesome regulars – you guys have been fab!

Enjoy!

* * *

**The Tribulations of Peace**

**By Corralero**

_"Peace! It has finally been reached and although I couldn't say it affects me personally, for as you well know, I'm no soldier or politician or even anywhere near the warzones, you can still feel it. There have been celebrations out on the street for two whole days and nights now and everybody is talking and laughing once more. School is out – imagine trying to teach the kids at a time like this! It's hard enough normally! I've even taken some cuttings from the papers. Of course not everything is right, it'll take longer than that, and there is much outcry over the Gundam Pilots, from both sides of the camp it seems. No one quite knows what is happening to them or even where they are. There are all sorts of amusing rumours flying around over who they are – robots, trained animals, even children! But speaking for myself, I believe they deserve all the honour they can get. Did far more than I could ever do. Still we'll see………Oh and that delivery of algy finally arrived!!! Two weeks later than expected – but better later than never!"_

_(From the diary of Mr Christopher Locks, written two days after peace was declared.)_

**Chapter Nine **

**Hedgehogs**

He was lying back where he had started – on the kitchen floor. It had taken him too long to work out where the scratchy sensation of the rough carpet on his bruised cheek had gone. He didn't open his eyes, but instead lay breathing shallowly and mentally running over the poor state his body was in. Damn, they had clearly done this before, his whole body ached and his mind grimaced as he recalled how easily they had broken into his protective ball, exposing his stomach and chest. A bit like the badger hunting its way into a hedgehog. He and Trowa had once watched one as they had hidden in a forest in England for a night. Poor hedgehog. He lay still, drifting slowly, then mentally frowned as a nagging observation sluggishly crossed his thoughts. It was very quiet – no raucous laughter, dirty jokes, radio. The party was over. He hoped. Footsteps. Stumbling a little. Of course. Hoped too soon. He kept his eyes shut. A foot slammed into his side and he couldn't stop the groan of pain issuing from his lips. A chuckle sounded near his ear as a hand grasped his hair, roughly wrenching his face upwards.

"Knew you were awake. Come on, open your eyes. That's it. Open 'em up."

Reluctantly he opened them to find himself staring directly into his carer's face, inches from his own. Mallinson laughed at the pained expression.

"Not so big now, are you? Sorted you out good and proper." He was numb to the jeering, heard it all before. Mallinson snorted at the lack of reaction, releasing him abruptly. Wearily, he closed his eyes again, lowing his head to allow his forehead to rest on the floor as the harsh grip on his hair relaxed.

"Still…" Mallinson slurred. _Just go away, _Duo found himself begging silently, tiredly in his mind, _I've had enough, please just go. _He stiffened with shock as the sound of a belt snapping together reached his ears, the sharp crack of leather. Then Mallinson was reaching down once more, grasping the collar of Duo's shirt.

"You can never have too much of a good thing."

Then he yanked back. For a moment, the material pushed back against his throat, threatening to choke him, then the fabric gave way, ripping down the back and leaving him exposed to the cruel leather strap and buckle that Mallinson brought down with punishing force once, twice, thrice, again and again until Duo lost count and fire spread and engulfed his back as his jaw locked with the effort of not crying out while numb fingers clawed and dug into the unyielding floor.

Eventually the grunts of exertion followed by the crack of leather meeting skin stopped to be replaced with the mingled pants of exertion from Mallinson and gasps of pain from Duo. Duo lay, half dazed, numb with pain. Had Mallinson gone? Exhausted, he tried to lift his head, achieving the barest inch as his back screamed in protest. He'd had enough, he wanted out. He wanted the anonymous comfort to the black oblivion, to be far far away from all this and for once his wish was granted as he hazily watched the boot draw slowly closer to his face in one final act of cruelty. It connected, snapping his head backwards forcefully and the left side of his face erupted in a moment of sharp, clear-cut, bright white pain and then blackness and nothing as he was finally whisked far far away to the deep deep darkness of unconsciousness.

* * *

Duo woke slowly and painfully to the dull grey morning light of Monday, his head pounding insistently and with not too many memories of what happened. He lay there on the tiled floor, staring at the base of the kitchen unit, where cheap wood substitute met with the tacky plastic tiles and slowly, unwillingly, like a grey tide, the recollection of the night before came back. He wished he remained unconscious. Stifling a sigh, he move to get up only to choke out a curse as his body spasmed, traumatized muscles clenching, refusing to let him move. He couldn't move, couldn't breath, couldn't escape the horrible pain. Gradually as the minuets stretched slowly away, the stranglehold on his body released, allowing him to slump motionless on the floor once more, cursing himself inwardly. Baka, he never learnt, always, always moving too soon. 

It took him upwards of half a hour to coax his body into standing position, moving slowly so not to trigger the spasms, until he was leaning shakily against the steel sink and able to flick his eyes around the flat. Empty, littered still with the debris of the party and the floor still stained with his own blood, but Mallinson was gone. If his ribs would have let him, he would have exhaled a sigh of relief. The hedgehog definitely wasn't up to round two at the moment. After a while he began to slowly shuffled towards the dingy bathroom to stare in dismay at the damage to his face in the cracked and spotted mirror. While the right side was relatively untouched, the left side of his face was a mess. _Stupid bastards, _he thought viciously as dread rose at the prospect of explaining this to his friends. Unbidden, their scathing, disappointed reactions rose to mind and suddenly he groped blindly for the toilet, doubling over as he retched violently and emptily and then again until his abused stomach protested triggering yet another spasm. When he could move once more he hauled himself up off the floor via the sink, to stare again at the pale face, pinched and now tear-streaked with pain. The taps went on, the water swirling and chattering comfortingly as he washed and dried his face, carefully removing the dried blood from his hair. Feeling slightly refreshed, he glanced at the mirror again. No, it didn't make much difference.

Dressing was a tedious business. The heavy air sounded with pained curses as he shrugged into a shirt. He hadn't even tried to examine the damage done to his back. He didn't want to know. He just wanted to be out of here as soon as was humanely possible. But sheer bloody-minded pride forced him to rebraid his hair, taming it's wildly dishevelled state. He'd had enough stripped from him this weekend. Back in the kitchen, he caught sight of the digital clock on the cooker. 9.30 am. School had started an hour ago. He tried wearily to summon the will to care but it hurt too much to think, to feel at the moment, so he sunk back into the numbed daze that had carried him through the morning as he walked slowly to the door and down the street.

The walk to school that morning took a laborious and painful hour but did much to ease some of the stiffness from his body. Duo knew from experience that beatings were usually never quite as bad as they first seemed and this was proving to be the case. Not that that made the situation much better. So he trudged on feeling the chill September air clear his mind, chasing out the daze and slowly returning unwelcome thought and feelings. He tried half heartedly to repressed the dual feelings of anxiety and anger that were churning away inside. He knew full well how this was going to look yet since that fight which Heero, he could no longer find the energy or determination to fight his corner. When he finally reached the school grounds he almost turned and ran (metaphorically, of course) from the day he knew was waiting for him. But what choice did he really have? Heero and Boyster had made it abundantly clear – Want to be free? Want a future? Tow the line and who cares what happens in the process. If he didn't turn up, they'd be down on him like a tone of bricks. But then, he reflected bitterly, they already were, weren't they? So what was to consider? Like most things in his life, when it came down to it, he didn't really have a choice. With a humourless grin, he slowly straightened his aching back and stepped through the gates as the bell rang for break and students poured out of the school to fill the previously silent grounds with their chatter.

**To Be Continued...**


	9. The Sound of Silence

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter One

**Warnings:** Swearing, angst, reference to child abuse

**A/N: **Thank you again for the great reviews and encouragement. **Michinori – **Soo glad some one had commented on my little "extracts" at the start! They're quite fun but surprisingly hard to write some times and give me a bit of a break in style. I do think quite hard about what I put in each one depending on the chapter and plot! **Solitaire – **Sorry to keep the plot hanging around for you. It was one of the bits of the story that I had to put in but really didn't fit into either chapters well enough so became a funny little one on its own. Hope it didn't annoy you too much and that this chapter moves the plot along enough!

* * *

**The Tribulations of Peace **

**By Corralero**

"_Zechs, we must do something and soon! Sally and Howard are going spare not to mention Rashid. Relena's driving herself to distraction and Cathy's exhausted with worry and no one will tell us anything. No one's saying it but I don't know how long the boys will last. They're trying to get them court material, you know the signs, it's obvious to see. We've got no idea were they are, what they're doing or anything. C'mon Zechs, enough's enough – they won the war, for hell's sake! I know you're doing your best, we all are. But I think we need to act fast."_

_(Record of a video conversation between Zechs Merquise and Lucrezia Noin)

* * *

_

**Chapter Nine**

**The Sound of Silence**

The weekend had been quiet. Three mornings and three nights of quiet, that amounted to around 60 hours of quiet meals, quiet past times, quiet stilted awkward conversation, quietly averted faces, quietly unspoken tensions and unresolved concerns. It had been a blessed relief to return to the noisy, careless atmosphere of the school, to escape from the accusatory _tick tock tick tock _of a clock sounding in a room that was too quiet. For they had, would they had admitted it, missed the colourful, loud, vibrant energy of their friend, although they were, in their own ways, all to proud or hesitant to admit to it. Yet they had, by unspoken agreement, given in so far as to ring Duo on the Saturday night - to check a Geography assignment, of course. Mallinson had answered and after a brief pause had returned to the phone. Apparently Duo was 'too busy' to come to the phone. Read: Fuck off, you bunch of bastards. So the quiet continued and the shoulders of the four pilots noticeably relaxed as they entered the school grounds, relaxing all the way to their form rooms where the shoulders of Heero and Quatre slowly began to tense once more and by the end of the first period, Biology, Trowa and Wufei's muscles had joined enthusiastically in the upward movement.

The Biology teacher frowned unhappily as Duo failed to respond to the register call, causing uneasy sideways glances to pass between Trowa and Quatre. Then the lesson began. It was a practical experiment in osmosis, requiring potatoes, water, salt, equipment and, fortunately, a lot of unavoidable chatter.

The teacher hesitated uncertainly at the front of the room. Tall, thin and balding, Mr Locks was a shrewd man, good at his jobs and well liked and respected by students and staff alike. Yet something about those five new students made him hesitate. He fidgeted with a pen. Something about them just didn't fit. He didn't know what, he just couldn't put his finger on it, but it was there he knew it. Little things like how they all seemed to know each other yet were apparently from five different colonies and were was different as chalk from cheese. Like how they operated seamlessly as a team when working practically. Like how they entered the results into the laptops, expertly, scarcely glancing at the screen. Like how- he stopped himself. This was getting ridiculous. And yet as unusual as the students were, he warmed to them. They were excellent students, even Duo, for all his attitude…Duo…he frowned again and reached a decision and set off, threading his way through the tangle of students, chairs and potato peelings. As he approached the desk, he saw the four boys leaning together, deep in earnest quiet conversation. Then suddenly they were aware of his presence and four heads snapped around as four sets of eyes locked upon his face with a startling expression. _There was too much_, he reflected in something like shock and alarm, _reflected in those eyes. Do all war orphans have that look_? he wondered. And somehow he doubted it. Recovering himself under their now curious gaze, he got them to show him the experiment and it's progress. Perfect, of course. Then he straightened and eyed them thoughtfully.

"You boys are friends with Duo Maxwell, aren't you?"

Four heads bobbed in acknowledgement and he didn't fail to note the varying expressions in their eyes from annoyed frustration in onyx black to wary forest green to defensive wariness Prussian blue to anxious aquamarine.

"Do you know what's wrong with him today?" He inquired casually.

"No, sir." Replied the quietest of the four, Trowa Barton, face half obscured by long brown strands of hair, which had caused many a staff hand to itch to bring scissors to. "We didn't see him over the weekend."

"I see." He nodded his acceptance and smiled faintly. "Well, I noticed he seemed to be having a little difficulty in settling down and if he needed a teacher, or an adult for that matter, to talk to then…"

"We'll pass the message on, sir." Bright blue eyes smiled with genuine thanks and promise. That was Quatre, any teacher's dream pupil. Intelligent, sensitive and helpful to others with impeccable manners and self-control. He smiled his thanks and moved on to the next table. When he next glanced, the four heads were once more bent in earnest debate.

* * *

"Where is he?" Wufei snapped, "He's missed first and second period. He cannot afford this kind of trouble."

The school had finally released them for a brief period of freedom with the mid-morning break and it seemed that Wufei's thin patience had also been released along with it. They were standing near the gates, eyes flicking through the crowds pressing around them, going over the same old grounds they had been circulating over the last two periods.

"None of us can" commented Heero. He was standing rigid, shoulders tense, his face dark with annoyance. "This grows ridiculous. He – "

"He's here." Trowa interrupted with a frown.

Duo had entered the gates and was walking slowly towards the school's entrance, wending his way through the crowds of students with an air of apparent nonchalance that made Heero straighten with annoyance and bark out,

"Duo!"

He stopped, still facing away from them, hesitated, then continued forwards. Snarling under his breath, Heero closed the distance between them, grabbing the other boy's upper arm, feeling him tense.

"Get off." Duo's words came out terse and clipped.

"No."

"Get off!"

"No! You Baka! What do you think you're doing? Why are you late?" Finally losing it, Heero swung the braided ex-pilot around, then gasped as his face came fully into view for the first time.

"What the – What happened?"

The left side of Duo's face was blossoming with ugly bruising ranging from red to purple to blue through to black. Duo turned his head away, speaking between gritted teeth,

"What happened?" His voice was mocking, "This is what happened, Yuy! This is what happens when ya don' fight back."

Jaw clenched, Duo swung back round to face Heero fully, his eyes flashing with fury, betrayal, hurt…

"Ya wanna know why I was late? Wanna know wha' I was doin'? Lyin' stone-cold unconscious on the kitchen floor, that's wha'. Sorry for bunkin'."

"Duo, I…" At a loss Heero reached out with his free hand to touch his friend's injured face but Duo jerked angrily away, yanking himself from Heero's slackened grip, as his hands shoved him away, striking at Heero's shoulder.

"No! Just get offa me, Yuy. Get off!"

With that he turned sharply and disappeared, his braid whipping behind him. Stunned Heero turned to his friends. Quatre looked back pleadingly, "Lets look for him."

Slowly Heero shook his head, "No, just me."

Wufei shot him a penetrating look. "We'll cover for you in class."

* * *

Duo was a master of stealth and concealment. If he didn't want to be found, he wasn't. Simple as that. However Heero was nothing, if not patient and systematic. Several hours later he found himself up in the school's attics, looking quietly behind the large boilers.

He sat like a small, lost child, huddled up to the wall, arms wrapped around his knees, his battered face resting on his hands. Heero could tell from his posture that his face wasn't the only area of his body to catch a beating. Violet eyes were shut tight in anger, lips compressed.

Walking over, stepping through the pipes, Heero slid down the wall until he sat next to his elusive quarry.

"I am sorry, Duo."

The mouth frowned unhappily, eyes opened, staring straight ahead, avoiding the intense cobalt gaze to his right. The gaze flickered down.

"Why'd ya do it? Why didn't ya believe me?"

The pain was evident in his voice. Heero sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. He scrubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand.

"I-I was so focused, concerned over what is going to happen to the five of us. They made it so clear to me how crucial the next few weeks are, that we could not afford to slip up. I lost focus."

There was a short silence after his confession, then he felt Duo nod slowly, felt the weigh of the chestnut head rest on his left shoulder as the boy he considered his brother leaned into him, both offering and receiving support.

"It'll be ok, Heero, ya know. We'll stick together no matter wha'. Even if we have ta go on the run or whatever ta do it."

"I know. I'm just…I though peace would be easy"

The head on his shoulder nodded. A silent _me too_. Silence lapsed, then…

"I forgive you."

Heero smiled as he slipped an arm around the slight shoulders.

"Thank you."

* * *

They sat in silence, staying as they were for a long moment, both inwardly grateful for the brief respite from the turmoil that was their live, content to take the other's silent company and support. Eventually Heero stirred, taking a deep slow breath, and stood. Thoughtless for a moment, he reached down and seized Duo's lax hands, pulling the other strongly to his feet. Horror at his mistake danced imperceptible across his face, creasing his brow as Duo's face contorted in pain, teeth gritted as a strangled sound of pain escaped him and his body bucked with the feeling. He was caught gently by the shoulders as Heero steadied his fall, lowering him slowly into kneeling position. He swatted feebly at the expert, questing hands that pressed at his ribs feeling for the breaks that he knew were there and heard Heero's snort of annoyance at his attempts to hide his injuries. Then hands were swiftly unbuttoning the shirt that had given him some much trouble that morning and the fabric was pulled back. Heero's breath seemed to still and the silence in the attic of the school was suddenly ominous. It stretched on and finally Duo dared to glance up and saw Heero's furious gaze riveted on the damage to his body.

"He had a bit of help." His mouth was dry and the jest came out cracked and dry. Heero didn't even notice, reaching out as if mesmerised, his hand hovering, stopping just before the blackened and broken skin and tracing the vicious long red weal of a stray belt mark running over his shoulder.

"What is this?" His voice was hoarse with suppressed fury.

"A-A belt mark…" Duo whispered.

"He beat you with a belt." It wasn't a question but a flat statement. The deadly eyes locked with his and unthinking he flinched, nodding. And suddenly it was too much, the pain rushed in, intensified by sitting so still for so long, and he couldn't think straight. He was horrified to find his eyelids pricking with tears and angrily blinked them away. They had failed to beat the tears out him, all of them, the OZ soldiers and those bastards last night. He was not going to cry in front of the perfect soldier. He didn't understand. He had lived through far worse beating than this, running straight back into battle. What was wrong with him? Of course, peace. Always made things much harder, at least in his world.

Then strong fingers were slowly rubbing the nape of his neck, soothing the muscles, relaxing his body once more until the pain was held at bay and he could focus on the world again. When he could see Heero once more the other looked softer, concern shimmering in his eyes although the cold anger still lurked for all to see.

"I'll kill him."

Duo chuckled softly, only Heero could say something like as comfort. Yet oddly enough nothing else could had lifted Duo's spirits further. It was as if the world was once more twisting into place.

"Not if I get there first."

"That is physically impossible in this state, Duo." His friend replied matter-of-factly though the gentleness remained in his eyes. Slowly this time and carefully he helped Duo upright, forcing the strong-minded teen to lean on him as they moved towards the stairs. At the top, Duo paused, eyes flickering up to search the other's face, revealing pain and strength in their depths, glazed by uncertainty as he looked down the stairs.

"Where're we goin'?"

"To the school nurse and to contact Mr Locks." Heero replied evenly. Duo attempted to dig his heels in, to little avail.

"Wha'? I don' need no nurse!"

The Japanese boy's face was carefully blank as he turned to his indignant friend.

"But clearly being new to the area and not knowing where the hospitals are, that is the first thing I would do. Besides how else are we going to report Mallinson without Boyster finding out?"

Duo stared for a moment, mouth slack with astonishment then curving up into a wicked smile as the spark lit in his eye.

"Well," he conceded, "She better be pretty."

**To Be Continued...**

**Well, that ends on a slightly happier note than ever before - but it's not over yet...**


	10. The Outsider's Perspective

**Disclaimer:** See first chapter 

**Warnings:** Reference to child abuse

**A/N:** As I'm sure you've noticed, updates are steadily getting slower. And I'm guessing they will continue to do so, at least for the near future. Uni is not easy, people! Seriously though, I do have a lot of work on at the moment which obviously takes priority over writing and updating – however that said, I am not going to stop updating, still got lots to say on this boyo – but I thought you had better have some warning.

Glad you all enjoyed the last chapter so much – lots of relief all round! Thanks for all your lovely reviews and sorry if this chapter is a little…meh.

* * *

**The Tribulations of Peace **

**By Corralero**

"_It was a time of confusion, of uncertainty. A time of selfishness, a time when we forgot each other for a while and were lost in our own petty worlds. Then the sun seemed to rise again and the light came back in. The reality snapped into place and we had a function in the world once more. I have never felt so sad yet held such joy, not been so certain upon such a crooked, unsure path."_

_(Reflections by Wufei Chang. Unpublished, written not long before his death.)

* * *

_

**Chapter Ten **

**The Outsider's Perspective**

It was mere chance really that took him by that precise route today. He had been down at the school's rockery, examining some plants that he was considering using for an experiment, wondering exactly how much he would have to sweeten the groundkeeper with to get his hands on them. On the way back towards his classroom he was struck by the sudden cravings for coffee. He dithered for a moment then gave in, turning and heading by a more unusual route to the staff room. He rounded a corner, humming idly to himself and then stopped short at the sight of a student, Heero Yuy, standing squarely in the middle of the corridor. It wasn't exactly the sight of a mere pupil that arrested his movements so suddenly but rather the intensity and presence that suddenly radiated off the strongly built figure. The boy's face was stolid, serious, focused.

"I need you to come with me, sir."

It wasn't a request, it was a command, level and quietly said yet with such ironclad certainly and decision that he obeyed, just like that, all questions flying unsaid from his mind. And he found himself following Yuy down the corridor towards the small door that led to the attic, which was normally kept locked by the Janitor. They went in.

The place was half lit by the harsh strips of neon lights, creating sharp shadows ricocheting around the small hall well and there, seated on the bottom step, huddled a slim battered figure, leaning into the handrails for support. Mr Locks had that sudden sickening sensation in his gut, as though he had missed a step going downstairs, and instinctively knew this was no playground bully scenario. He turned away, mouth open in question, to find Heero looking directly at him.

"It was his foster carer, Mr Mallinson." Heero answered the unspoken question concisely but the anger was clear in his hard eyes. "Last night. He needs to get to the medical room, sir."

Mr Locks nodded in response to the statement and to the unspoken request to take over the situation then moved forward to kneel slowly down in front of the rebellious braided boy who had been missing from his class this morning. Large violet eyes flickered open warily as handsome features tightened in pain. He looked suspiciously at the teacher, eyes flickering to his friend for reassurance.

"Hey, Duo." He spoke quietly and calmly as the suspicious retreated slightly and a hoarse voice returned "'lo, sir." Mr Locks smiled faintly.

"If you can handle it, Duo, we're going to need you to stand up so we can get you to the nurse and maybe hospital. That way we can get you feeling more comfortable, ok?"

He saw emotions flicker across the boy's battered face –uncertainly, fear, worry – as he began to ask "Wha' 'bout…" He trailed off.

"Don't you worry about anything else for the moment, huh, Duo? There'll be plenty of time for all that once you're feeling a bit better. Now how about we get you upright?"

Slowly Duo nodded and Mr Locks made to move forward, but Heero beat him to it with a low warning. "Don't touch his back." Using Duo's arms, they helped him upright as he groaned softly in pain. He was much stronger than Mr Locks had expected. He had been in resigned dread over bringing an ambulance in straight away but instead they were able to support Duo the whole way to the medical room.

* * *

The medical room was bright and white, a world away from the dingy stairs, with colourful posters loudly warning occupants over the dangers of drugs, emergency procedures during bombings and Gundam attacks. They would have to take them down soon, Mr Locks mused as he helped Duo on to the spare hospital bed, after all there was hopefully no danger left now the war was finally over. Beside, he never understood the purpose of the Gundam poster in the first place. From what he could see, the pilots had always attempted to limit their attacks on military targets, but then he wasn't a government official, only a biology teacher – what did he know? He pulled his thoughts back on track as the nurse hurried over, briefly explaining the situation to her and leaving Duo in her hands. Then he turned to Heero, face serious.

"In a moment, I'll have to go and speak to the headmistress and contact Social Services-" He was cut off much to his surprise by both Heero and Duo, their replies loud and clear, urgent.

"No."

He blinked in surprise then recovering himself addressed Duo, who had twisted away from the nurse, looking both mutinous and alarmed.

"Duo, I'm afraid I cannot keep this to myself and neither can the nurse. It is our duty to you to report this, but I promise you I wont let anyone else know."

"We understand this." Heero cut across calmly "And we do not wish to obstruct your responsibilities. However, will you first allow Duo to give his testimony before the authorities are alerted?"

Again, as always, these strange boys had caught him off balance. He studied the faces before him but they were shuttered to his eyes, telling him nothing. He sighed. Have you ever taken part in a conversation where you are left feeling that every participant except you knew something more than you did? Held a key to unlock all the mysterious layers of meaning that wafted just out of your reach? Or walked into a room, only to feel as if you have just missed something of vital important, the existence of which everybody else refuses to acknowledge? That slow creeping sense of confusion, suspicion, deep-seated unease? That sense was stealing up upon Mr Locks as he looked between the two students, watching their fleeting exchange of glances of silent flurries of encrypted communication which came to an abrupt end, leaving the silence somehow more deafening than before and he still stood there knowing nothing more that an innate instinct that the puddle into which he had unwittingly splashed into an hour ago was deeper than he had expected. It was a swaying moment of balance and as he deliberated he found himself more and more unwilling to commit himself, to take a chance when the two voices that had called out with such urgency and the two eyes that face him with such care knew so much more of this hidden language than he. He looked back up from his gazing point into the Prussian blue eyes looking into his and held the gaze steadily.

"If you wish." He replied slowly and watched the two relax, ever so slightly, and felt within himself, to his own surprise, the release of air in a sigh of relief that he didn't even know was there.

* * *

What was it about the five of them? Trowa silently wondered from his vantage point. What was it that when things went to pot they took the whole kitchen with it? He was skipping class. Had been ever since Quatre received Heero's abrupt message – Target found. – snapping the three of them into action in which he took a giddy, almost guilty, relief. Quatre and Wufei had remained in class. He could just make out Quatre's blond head turning periodically towards Trowa's location, from where the Arab sat in a maths lesson two floors up. Trowa sat on top of the Janitor's bungalow, back against the wall, making use of the cover offered by the shade and rambling climber, keen eyes fixated on the empty road outside the school entrance. It had been half a hour since Heero's message, during which the three pilots had pooled and reassessed all their impressions and information of Mallinson, reconsidering all of Duo's few reactions and comments. Taking the wider scenario into account they had decided there was a high likelihood of Mallinson panicking at Duo's disappearance from his house and judging from his actions over the weekend he clearly wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, thus there was a possibility of Mallinson turning up at Pensby High. A possibility, Wufei had pointed out, that they did not want to miss. The possibility only became stronger once they had taken their own previous reactions into account. Mallinson would perceive an opportunity to talk his way out the situation. So a strategy had been swiftly sketched out, culminating in Trowa's current position, sitting silently on the roof top. Not bad for a five minuet window in between lesson turnover.

Trowa remained motionless as a grey jeep turned the corner, swinging round into view and parking sloppily half on half off the pavement. As the jeep door slammed shut, he spoke clearly and softly into the mobile phone at his mouth.

"He's here."

His gaze flickered sideways to see the blond head dip in acknowledgement as Wufei's hand shot upwards to attract the teacher's attention to his ill Arabian friend. And then he was gone, slipping back into the shadows, moving towards the medical room, his instincts back in control once more.

**To Be Continued...**


	11. Under Your Skin

**Disclaimer:** See first chapter 

**Warnings:** Violence, swearing

**A/N:** Big thank you to my reviewers. As always please let me know what you think – it's all very appreciated.

**The Tribulations of Peace **

**By Corralero**

_"Whenever a historian wishes to make an impact, to make his mark upon his discipline, he must take a step back. He must think afresh, place himself and his fellows and all their petty debates within context, and ask himself this; 'What am I doing here? What is my purpose? My aim?" and he must find his answer. Truth. That is what I strive for, what I study for. A truth beyond the prejudice and tarnish of memory and history gone by. My study of the Gundam Pilots in the aftermath of the War has led me on a remarkable journey of surprise, frustration and satisfaction. And the biggest surprise of all, for myself, was to find that some time, in the ages past, the Gundam Pilots did exactly what I strive to do – to put aside myself and all my pretensions, to look at what really mattered and to discover the truth."_

(M. Schoinsberg, The Introduction to _The Complexity of Peace)_

**Chapter Eleven**

**Under Your Skin**

She looked at him sharply, eyes intense from behind their black-rimmed spectacles.

"Did you say Duo Maxwell?"

He frowned at her in confusion.

"Yes."

"Are you absolutely sure of this, Chris?"

He stared in exasperation.

"Kim, of course I am. I've spent the best part of an hours with him, and believe me, the bruising is kind of hard to miss!"

"Oh God." She muttered, reaching for the desk phone and rapidly punching in the numbers. "Yes, hello. It's Kim Blackhall from Pensby High. I need Mr Boyster, urgently."

Mr Locks stood there, face fixed with confusion as the headmistress stood, pacing in agitation, conducting a low conversation, glancing at him uneasily every now and then, and once again he was left feeling as though he was missing something vital. _Boyster_…he knew that name, but where from? His brow furrowed in concentration. Wait! Of course, he was the government official on the news last night, reassuring the nations and colonies once more about the Gundam Pilots. But that made no sense. Why would a headteacher be on a direct line to a high-ranking government official? He rubbed at his temple, his hand sliding down to massage his neck. This was turning out to be a long day. He glanced over at Kim Blackhall. The phone conversation was beginning to wind up.

"So you'll be sending someone around in under ten minuets?…thank you…yes, thank you…goodbye." Her face had lost some of the agitation from earlier although her features remained sharp and critically focused.

"Well?" He queried.

"Well, I think we best head on over there."

He gaped at her and watched the stress flit across her face as she tried to walk on casually.

"Kim, what on earth is going on here? And don't tell me this is routine. I'm head of child protection here and I know you're not following protocol. Why are you even getting involved? Why haven't you rung the child protection services?" He ran his hand through his thinning hair in frustration and tried to ignore the growing uneasiness inside him. Her face was carefully blank as she replied coldly.

"I can't tell you, Chris, but I'm sure you have become aware of the fact that this situation is far more complicated than normal. Now you are welcome to remain present, to an extent, but I will not hesitate to ask you to remove yourself from the situation if I feel it is necessary."

He recoiled, stared blankly, opened his mouth to speak and could find no words to say.

They walked on in silence.

* * *

They made a strange and almost humorous sight, three students and one teacher arranged in various positions, ranged down the corridor, which culminated in a firmly shut door marked "Medical Room". To the unknowing eye the preoccupied, troubled faces of some and the slouching posture of others looked remarkably like the four had been sent out of a classroom for misbehaviour, had not the teacher been so much clearly older.

He had been interrupted from his fretful thoughts, triggered by being shown abruptly and firmly out of the medical room on the arrival of a curious man in a dark official looking suit, by the sudden appearance of Trowa Barton, Wufei Chang and Quatre Raberba-Winner. They were moving purposefully down the corridor, a sleekness and confidence in their movement that drew his mind instantly back to an image of Heero, standing squarely in the middle of the corridor.

"_I need you to come with me, sir."_

He shook his head, blinking the thought away and cleared his throat gruffly.

"Boys, what are you doing out of class?"

Large blue eyes looked guilelessly up into his, anxiety swimming in them, as Quatre's innocent face met his, hands twisting uncertainly.

"We heard about Duo, sir. We came…" He appeared to hesitate, biting his lip, "we came to see if he's ok…"

The sympathy was clear on the older man's face as he spoke kindly to the blond boy.

"That's very kind of you, Quatre, but I'm afraid you can't see Duo now. Maybe if you came back later…"

"But…but can we wait? We don't mind waiting." The blue eyes were beseeching, pleading, wearing away at the confused adult and eventually Mr Locks conceded.

"Well, I don't suppose it can do no harm. That's no guarantee that you'll get to see him, mind you. He'd not exactly up to visitors at the moment but I expect you might as well wait here rather than in lessons."

Wufei chuckled inwardly at the wink Trowa flipped him as they took up their positions opposite each other against the walls. Mr Locks stood no chance, especially when Quatre was in a mood to get what he wanted – very few things could stop him in that mood…or stop Duo for that matter, he thought with a pang. Even Wufei had been on the receiving end of the most ridiculous puppy dog eyes he had ever witness and submitted to. Duo's powers of persuasion had been one of the most valuable assets to the team, along with Trowa's gift of infiltration, showing them that, thankfully, violence wasn't always the way. He glanced over at the others, watching Quatre's eyes flicker anxiously between the medical room and the window, hand pressed to his chest. He never could hide his emotions, Wufei thought ruefully, although in this situation, it was hardly a weakness. In fact, with Mr Locks to convince, it was a positive factor.

His dark eyes slid on from Quatre's obvious tension to Trowa's slim still figure. He was standing quietly, back resting against the wall, long lean legs stretching out before him, chin down, arms crossed, eyes closed. To the casual observer cool, calm, aloof, collected. But Wufei could see the set jaw, the tight fine lines of anger around the shut eyes and sensed the other's silent rolling emotions.

He himself dug deep, breathing steadily, feeling the anger still swirling sickeningly around his stomach, rattling through the plan once more in his head. So much depended on the reactions, not only of Heero and Duo, upon whom he knew he could count, but also of Mr Locks. The thin, balding man who was currently staring at the floor, his brow furrowed in confusion, as if the green tiles were trying to tell him something. Not exactly perfect material. He breathed in slowly, resisting the urge to check for the guns and knives he knew were not there.

He sensed the movement before it happened, heard faintly the pounding footsteps, the faint vibrations as door after door swung open and smacked against the walls through out the school, coming closer and closer. Then at the far end of the corridor came a resonating echoing crash as the double doors flew open forcefully, rebounding back against the walls as Mallinson came striding up the corridor, all pretences gone.

Wufei pushed himself off the wall to stand in the centre of the corridor, blocking the man's path, staring impassively at the man's approach while in the corner of his eye he saw Mr Locks' head snap up in alarm at the sudden noise, watched Quatre move closer to the teacher, out of well acted apparent fear, watched as Trowa's eyes flew open to watch the proceedings with a predator's intensity. They were ready…

"Where is he?" The man's voice was deep, hoarse with suppressed rage and…fear, which flashed uncertainly in the man's sharp eyes. The man was afraid. He had let things go too far and he knew it and Wufei could see why. He wrinkled his nose fastidiously at the smell of smoke and stale alcohol rolled off Duo's carer, heard Quatre's muttered exclamation of disgust, and took in the grey pallor, the bloodshot eyes, and the bags of a hangover.

He met the man's eyes coolly.

"Who?"

"Who do you think? Where's that brat?" The voice sounded aggressively.

He allowed his eyes to linger on the stain down the front of Mallinson's shirt, watching as the man clenched his jaw in frustration. He hadn't even acknowledged the other adult's presence.

"You're not seeing him." He stated flatly. The man stepped closer, his six-foot towering over the smaller teenager.

"Who the fuck do you think you are? I'm in charge of that kid, I'll see him when I dam well want." The words were breathed out, sounding out in the strained silence, ladled with threat.

"Then you should have thought of that before this weekend." Wufei flashed back. He stood his ground as the other thrust his face towards him, arm jerking as he gestured towards the door.

"What did he tell you?" the words were snarled out as fear and temper over took him. "Where is he?!" The last words came out in a violent shout, echoing off the tiles as Wufei remained silent, pushing the man over the edge, watching as Mallison's face flickered as the other read the knowledge and hatred and scorn in Wufei's black eyes, watched as the cruel fury overtook rational thought as he stood there, daring him, provoking him, defying him to…he saw the hand snap upwards and stood forcing himself to be still, to be weak, for Duo, for Duo. _If he can do this so can I_. He gasped in surprised pain as the hand connected in a savage blow to his jaw, sending him crashing in to the wall, his head snapping back to smack painfully against the hard concrete, jarring his teeth against his tongue and lips, filling his mouth with warm, sweet, metallic blood, as he heard Mr Locks shout in alarmed anger and dazedly watched Trowa spring into deadly action.

**To Be Continued...**


	12. Revelation

**Disclaimer:** See first chapter 

**Warnings:** Swearing, violence, reference to child abuse. Oh and a kickass Trowa! ;)

**A/N:** I am so sorry this took so long to update! I've tried to give you a little more as a thank you for all being so patient. Thank you for all the lovely feedback, I'm so glad you're enjoying it and hope you haven't all given up on me!! Anyway hope you all have a very happy and very blessed Christmas and New Year!

* * *

**The Tribulations of Peace**

** By Corralero**

_"Sally nearly went mad when she found out what happened! We all had to literally run for cover. But as you well know, we would have done it again. You've met Duo, albeit briefly, you must have some idea of what I mean. We'd all go to hell and back again for him, and Wufei most of all, although he would complain the whole way. And it's not just that I know he'd do the same again for me – it's Duo, it's who he is. He's my brother in every way except blood. Anyway what Sally wanted to know was why Wufei, why not me or Trowa, and believe me we all volunteered, only who else could annoy someone so quickly and fully as Duo himself but Wufei?! In the end it was an obvious choice!_

_Anyway, I must go, dinner is nearly ready! Life has been so hectic, but I will see you soon – I promise. Give my love to all and may Allah bless you._

_Much love,_

_Quatre"_

_(Extract from a letter from Quatre Rabera-Winner to his sister, Nina. Used with kind permission of the Winner Trust Association)_

**Chapter Twelve**

**Revelation

* * *

**

"_He lived at a little distance from his own body, regarding his own acts with doubtful side-glance_"

He vividly remembered studying James Joyce's _The Dubliners _during one of the longest missions they had been given. A slow, arduous mission, which had taken almost two months. They had attended a school in the old city of Bristol, down in the gentle south of England, so to be near the Isle of White, the site of an underground OZ lab. And they had studied _The Dubliners_, where that odd phrase had leapt off the page and burnt into his memory where he had sat on the third row from the front. And now he knew what Mr Duffy meant, except that his side-glances were wide-eyed with shock as his body launched itself forward like a coiled spring, features set in a hard silent snarl. He could see the glittering anger in his own forest green eyes as he leapt past Wufei's dazed form, and as he swerved to avoid Mallinson's fists, he snapped back into his own form and felt, as if for the first time, the roaring tide of fury that was bursting from him. In a fluid motion he was in under the older man's guard, twisting his arms behind him, slamming him viciously up against the wall as the man grunted in shock.

"You bastard."

The words were grated out, spat past his lips, as his anger swept him past his normal silence, a desperate, furious rage against the man who had hurt his friends, hurt Duo and Wufei, against the people who had led them to this position, against his friends and against himself, for not realising, for not doing anything.

"You bastard."

But Mallinson was not to be subdued so easily. With a snarled oath, he kicked back against the wall, using the momentum and his superior height to try and break Trowa's grip and break away, but Trowa had had enough. Using the man's own strength and movement against him, he caught him on the turn, locking his leg between Mallinson's feet, causing him to stagger, forcing him back up against the wall, forearm braced across the man's throat, pressing down warningly. He stared into the other man's enraged eyes.

"I fucking dare you." He whispered harshly.

* * *

They had reacted extremely quickly, Quatre thought with grim satisfaction, as he shoved at Wufei's shoulder in an attempt to force the Chinese boy to stay down. He had seen, from the corner of his eye, the medical room door fly open and Mrs Blackhall's face stare out just in time to see Wufei go flying. Mr Lock's yell of alarm had been joined by her own shrill cry, as he himself dove for Wufei's still form, only to shudder and flinch away from the silent waves of fury racing off Trowa. He had focused upon his task alone, ignoring the ruckus behind him, and laid a gentle hand on Wufei's shoulder, sighing in relief as black eyes opened slowly to watch Trowa pound Mallinson into the wall with a mild detached interest.

"Status?" He snapped, sounding more like Heero in his concern. The eyes scrunched shut as Quatre helped him carefully into sitting position. A hand came up slowly to rub gingerly at the back of his head.

"That hurt."

The Arabian couldn't catch the tiny giggle that burst from him, as the tension from his body was released. If Wufei was well enough to complain then all was well.

"Mr Chang…" The pair looked up to see Mrs Blackhall hovering uncertainly nearby, a shocked looking government official and nurse behind her. Quatre looked past them to the doorway, where he met Heero's even gaze. The unruly chocolate hair dipped in a barely perceptible nod of admiration. Suddenly the bell rang, signalling the end of lessons, as all around them the rumble of students leaving the classroom and spilling into the corridors reached the unusual tableau in the hallway.

"We take this inside. Now." Trowa suddenly snarled out, as he abruptly whirled Mallinson around into an arm lock and forced him into the medical room.

Quatre entered the room last, half supporting a still dazed Wufei, forcing the proud boy to lean on him as his eyes swiftly scanned the room. Heero had joined Trowa in restraining Mallinon, forcing the man into a chair and binding him securely with medical tape. The two soldiers worked in taunt silence, their set jaws and abrupt movements a clear warning sign to all but the most foolish. The adults stood grouped by the window, conducting a muted yet forceful argument, and there at the far end of the room, standing warily next to the bed, was Duo, torso bare, shirt clutched in one hand. His eyes were narrowed, as he stood out of Mallinson's line of vision, watching the man with a mixture of distrust and dislike. And Quatre felt his heart break again for his brother, his friend, acutely aware of the vicious signs of abuse littering the slender body, wincing at the other's discomfort and humiliation of exposure though the faults of others.

Heero looked up as Quatre and Wufei joined them. Wufei staggered on past, to where Duo stood, leaning on the raised hospital bed behind. Duo blinked, flinching, as though startled, then murmured something to the Chinese boy, who shook his head groggily.

"Quatre!" Startled, he glanced around, wrenching his thoughts back on task, quashing his longing to go to his friend. There would be time enough for that later. "Assist Trowa with Mallinson."

Having gained the blonde's nod, Heero moved purposefully towards the knot of adults. On his approach the discussion broke up abruptly, the governmental official stepping forward, all earlier signs of unease gone. He opened his mouth, but Heero beat him to it.

"We need relocation and guarded transport for Mallinson to the nearest holding cell, along with transport for five."

The man's mouth remained open under Heero's cool gaze. He spluttered, clearly unnerved.

"But – but….we need to discuss…"

"We need to discuss nothing. Mallinson is guilty of assault, grievous bodily harm and child abuse, as witnessed by yourself and three other adults. Call security now and escort Mr Mallinson yourself." The man baulked still further, then breathing heavily, attempted to regain control once more.

"And what do you intend to do? Might I remind you that you are officially under the custody of the United Governments as stated in agreements signed?"

"What we do no longer any concern of yours. But if you must know, we are going to see My Boyster and he will be unaware of our arrival. Understood?"

Although cowed by the Perfect Soldier's presence, Heero's final statement caused protest and exclamations of surprise from more than one source, but the cold precise voice overrode them all, blunt and unyielding.

"This is non-negotiable."

* * *

He sat behind the wheel, long fingers tapping out a nervous tattoo until a glance to his left stilled them. There was a brief uneasy silence then the finger jerked once again into life…

_The boys had handled the situation with a practised ease and confidence that belayed their young years. Within minuets, the pretentious officer had been subdued into ringing security and before Mr Locks knew it five security guards had flooded the room and were busy escorting Mr Mallinson out of the ward. There had been a moment when he feared that the situation might have once more erupted, as Mallinson had sworn and struggled against the men holding him. The man had lurched around and fixed his sights upon Duo, who despite his defiance, had flinched and whitened at his cruel words. At that point, Trowa Barton had stepped up with feline precision to Mallinson's side to speak quietly into his ear. It had been too softly spoke for the teacher to catch the words the boy said, but Mallinson's eyes had filled with fear as he suddenly tried to avoid the young man's gaze. He was led quietly away, with the official close on his heels, casting wary looks at the five boys as he went._

Reaching up, he adjusted the review mirror, catching the ever-watchful gaze of his passengers. He refocused his attention on the road, slowing the car to negotiate a roundabout.

"Take the second exit."…

_Somehow he had found himself alone with the five boys as the nurse moved quietly into the storeroom to collect supplies and Kim was called away to deal with security's questions. He had stood quietly by the window, facing the glass, watching as Mallinson was placed in a van, and listening to the events unfolding behind him._

_"Duo! Oh, Duo! I'm so so sorry!" Quatre sounded close to tears as he converged upon the braided boy who had slumped on to the bed as Mallinson left the room in a sudden release of tension._

_"Yah! Gerroff, Q! Bastard busted some ribs!"_

_"Here." That was Trowa, reverting back to what Mr Locks assumed was his normal state. There were a few pained gasps, then the whisper of bandages being applied._

_"Thanks, Tro." The boy's voice was subdued. The conversation lowered further still, barely reaching him, beyond quiet murmurs. Unable to take it, he turned around slowly to hear Duo's muffled voice._

_"Ya all mean it?"_

_The American's handsome face was lost from view, hidden in the crook of a faintly surprised looking Trowa's shirt. The three others sat close by, hands place soothingly on his back and shoulders, tangled gentle in the rich chestnut hair._

_"Yeah."_

_The reply was so soft that the teacher couldn't even make out who said it as he watched a moment of reconciliation between friends. Duo sniffed and pushed himself carefully upright; his face happier than Mr Locks had ever seen it, despite the bruises marring it. His eyes lit with mischief as his gaze fell on the twin bruising on Wufei's cheek._

_"Guess ya gotta be. It's real flatterin', Wuffers, but ya gotta stop copyin' me like this." The Chinese youth felt the marks ruefully._

_"They are badges of honour, although the man has a hit like a Gundam." He admitted. Quatre broke in with a chuckle._

_"You nearly flew like a Gundam. Allah, I though you were going to go through the wall!"_

_As the laughter and josteling calmed once more, Duo glanced up at Heero._

_"So wha' we gonna do now?"_

_Trowa raised his eyebrows, "Well, a car was never ordered for us."_

_Mr Locks' eyes widened at the lazy reply._

_"Yeah an' wha'? There's like a dozen rides out there. Gimme a sec an' we'll be outta here 'fore ya can spit."_

_Wufei snorted._

_"You're not doing anything in that condition, Maxwell."_

_Violet eyes flashed in temper as the small jaw took on a stubborn look._

_"Look who's talkin', dragon boy."_

_Heero cut calmly across the escalating discussion._

_"We will not steal anything. With the law in our favour, it is best not to compromise this factor. Which raises the issue of driving."_

_Mr Locks watched as the teenagers before him focused on their task, as one suggestion after another was tossed out and shot down, as he tried to push down the words that were threatening to erupt out his mouth_

_"Buses?"_

_"Too long. Train?"_

_"To where?"_

_"Taxi?"_

_"And pay with what?"_

_"I can drive you."_

From the seats behind, a harsh cough followed by a muted groan reached his ears. He glanced briefly around.

"Is everything alright, boys?"

"Do you have a first aid kit in here?" Quatre's voice held a note of barely concealed worry. Mr Locks bit his lip.

"Yes, it's got some morphine in it."

"Shit, no! Quat, I ain't takin' that." Rasping and strained, Duo still sounded surprisingly stubborn.

"But Duo…"

"No, he's right. Remember how he reacts to it?"

Mr Locks flicked the indicator switch.

"Where are you going?" Cold and immediately aware. He ignored the threatening tone as he glanced into the review mirror at Heero's reflection.

"To the service station. We can get Duo some ibuprofen, if that works, and I would imagine Wufei would appreciate some pain relief as well."

He received a wan smile from the Asian boy and a delicate nod in response….

_Mentally he slapped his forehead. Hard. What in hell was he playing at? Here he had been, standing nice and quietly in the corner, forgotten about. Then Heero met his eyes and he realised that, no, he hadn't been forgotten about, not for a moment, a second even._

_"Are you certain?"_

_"Yes." He took a steadying breath, straightened his glasses and to his, and apparently their, astonishment, heard his teaching voice come out. "But first, boys, I'd like some explanations."_

_Five sets of eyebrows shot upwards in disbelief, then with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, Duo turned to Heero who nodded curtly. The injured boy cocked his head to one side as his smile broadened cheekily._

_"Wha' ya wanna know, sir?"_

_Blinking away memories of numerous coined explanations of missing homework, the teacher met his pupil's gaze._

_"I would like to know what exactly has been taking place today, and who the five of you are, please?" He made his request calmly and politely and still had no inkling of the truth. To his surprise, Duo's smile widened._

_"Second one's easily 'nough, though, warnin' ya now, ya'll find it hard 'nough ta swallow." The American announced. He paused, glancing assessing around the room for a moment and then back at the teacher, before stating simply, "We're the Gundam Pilots."_

_For what must have been the hundredth time that day, Mr Locks physically felt his body lurch with the sickening sensation of unimagined shock. His gaze flew to the Gundam warning poster, even as it struggled to look at the five teenagers in front of him, as he stammer out "W-what?"_

_Duo nodded seriously at him, "No jokes, mista. Shit! This is, like, the first time ever I told anybody! Lemme do the honours, meet pilots 03, 04, 05 and last but not least the infamous 01!"_

_"And you?" He asked faintly._

_Violet eyes glowed with dangerous pride._

_"02, pilot of Deathscythe at ya service. Oh an' this is all classified as ya probably_ _figured."_

_There was a moment of long long silence as their teacher slowly digested the startling news, and watched the deep seated anxiety shimmering in their eyes, scarcely acknowledge. It could all be some massive practical joke, he thought wildly, they could be anything, boy soldiers from OZ, kids with big imaginations, who had played one too many games. But for Mr Locks, it felt as if he had finally located the missing part of the sprawling puzzle that he had found himself entangled with, and suddenly everything was falling into to place. When he finally looked up again, the lines of confusion had cleared from his face._

_"Well," He said slowly, "I suppose I should laugh at you and send you on your way for making such a tale, yet given all that has happened today, I feel remarkably foolish that I didn't suspect the truth before."_

After that, as he was beginning to suspect was usual for the five remarkable boys, things moved rapidly. On once again assuring them of his intent to help, they moved as briskly as possible down to the car park with the promise of fuller explanations on the way to the Government HQ. The promise was filled succinctly by Quatre, proving to be a most fascinating story, scarce believable, yet here he was risking his career and quite possibly his life. As they drove, he slowly became aware that Duo was not doing quite as well as he had thought. The brief stop at the service station had helped in bringing the poor boy some pain relief, and he now sat, dozing fitfully, his head resting on Heero's shoulder.

"Baka." The teacher frowned at the softly spoken Japanese insult. His gaze flicked up to the mirror once more to see Heero turn to Trowa. "He needs a doctor."

Trowa nodded. "I'll try and contact Sally when we get there. He'll be ok for a while yet."

They were heading steadily into wooded area. Wufei spoke up from his seat next to Mr Locks.

"Take the next left and we'll be there in twenty minuets."

**To Be Continued…**


	13. To Win The War

**Disclaimer:** See first chapter 

**Warnings:** Highly irritating government officials, reference to child abuse.

**A/N:** Again apologies for a long delay. Am very happy, as exams are finally over – yet second semester begins – just wonderful. Thank you for your patience, I hope this is a good enough reward. Thanks for the feedback (loved Krystal's very succinct summary! Made me laugh!) And please, as always, let me know what you think!

* * *

**The Tribulations of Peace **

**By Corralero**

_"Thank you one and all for so kindly attending my inaugural speech as I am soon to take on the role of the head of the Peacecraft family in official capacity. sound of applause However, for my topic I wish to speak not so much about the future but about the past. My own personal and recent past. As you may know, during the war I was, and still am, completely committed to pacifism. And I have fought long and hard through means other than war to try and achieve that aim. However my political opponents were not of the same scruples and during the course of the war many attempts have been made on my life, on the lives of those I love and on the lives of those who fight for the same aim as myself – peace. Now, some of these were successful, such as my father's assassination. Yet the reason I am alive and here today is due, entirely, to the actions and bravery of five remarkable individuals who risked more than you or I could ever ask or imagine bringing peace to our world. So, peoples and governments of the earth and colonies, would you be so kind as I talk of the Gundam Pilots… sound of applause_"

_(Extract from the transcript of Relena Peacecraft's inaugural speech in the Parliament of the Sanq Kingdom.)_

**Chapter Thirteen**

**To Win The War**

"Are we nearly there yet?" A hoarse voice groaned.

"Nearly." Heero grunted in return as Duo sleepily pulled himself upright, wincing as his body protested. He gazed blearily around.

"Why have we stopped?"

Wufei spoke dryly from the front seat. "It occurred to us that a battle plan might be in order."

Duo nodded then stopped with a faint whimper, satisfying himself with a "mmm."

Brow furrowed in thought, Quatre chewed on his lip, his strategic brain already sorting through and rejecting possible options.

"We can't drive straight up to the front desk." He pointed out, "We'd be tied up in red tape in seconds, never see Boyster and lose momentum."

"And control." Trowa supplied.

Duo's eyes cracked open as he joked weakly, "So, no guns blazin', huh?"

"Not until we get to Boyster's office, anyway." Wufei interjected with a growl.

Quatre sighed. "It's going to be an infiltration job, isn't it?" He queried resignedly. A sudden movement drew their attention, as Heero turned to Duo, breaking his deadly silence to stare steadily at his friend.

"Can you do it?"

Duo returned the look with a grimace. "Yeah, guess so. I'll hold up for a few."

Quatre looked up once more, having obviously churned the idea over in his mind. "You do realise," He spoke slowly and carefully, looking each in the face, "what we are doing? How wrong this could go? If we don't get this right, we could be…"He trailed off, shivering slightly as Wufei reached over to squeeze his shoulder in reassurance.

"It doesn't matter." Trowa spoke with surprising vehemence, "I swear to God, I would rather risk that then live through today again, or volunteer such lack of…" He struggled for the words "_control_ in my life again." For a second, his eyes met Duo's in a moment of unspoken understanding.

"Time ta go get our freedom, guys." Duo spoke as a grim smile twisted his face. They began to exit the car closing the doors carefully behind them, when a slightly panicked voice spluttered out,

"Wait!"

It was Mr Locks. He had remained quiet during the discussion, feeling oddly naive and inexperience in comparison to these seasoned soldiers who were less than half his age, and now, suddenly, they were going.

"What do you want me to do?"

Heero leant down, resting his arm along the open car window, looking seriously down into the teacher's face.

"Lock the doors, keep the key in the engine and stay in the car. We will need you later to act as a witness about today's events. If all goes to plan, we will send someone to collect you. You will identify them through this." He reached into his jeans pocket and drew out his student ID, holding it up for Mr Locks to look closely at it, then tucking it away once more. "If they cannot show you the ID, then drive. Do not stop and ask questions, just go." He paused for a moment, collecting the teacher's nod of comprehension and suddenly hesitated, "And…and thank you."

Then he was gone, retreating back to Duo's side, who scowled and stepped pointedly away from the supporting arm.

"Wanna tell the whole woods we're here?" Mr Locks heard him grumble to the Japanese boy, who simply muttered "baka" in return, as they began to move away, leaving a cautious, hovering hand, ready to catch his friend lest he fall. Then the five pilots were moving silently into the woods and were gone.

* * *

Damn, but this hurt like a son of a bitch. Duo gritted his teeth against the pain, leaning momentarily against a wall as he felt his legs tremble beneath him. He returned Quatre's concerned look with a weak smile and viciously cursed Mallinson to hell and back in the back of his mind. Twice. Just for good measure. Taking a deep breath, he released it slowly, mindful of his ribs, gratefully taking advantage of the steadying hand Trowa placed on his shoulder. He wasn't entirely sure he could do this.

Getting in had been easy. The security wasn't anywhere near OZ standards, presenting not even a shadow of a challenge. And why should it? The war was over, besides this wasn't the most important of government buildings. Even so, Heero had insisted on a slightly more strenuous route, his stony glare clearly saying, in his Perfect Soldier way, better safe than sorry. So they had ended up towards the back of the building, threading their way through the electricity generators, scrambling up through a ventilation shaft and slipping out into a quiet, richly furnished corridor, with dark oak panelling and thick red carpets. Duo snorted inwardly. It was goodbye, military compounds, and hello to the bureaucrats. God, he was tired.

They were moving again. Heero and Quatre in the lead. Out of the five of them, they were the only ones who had actually been here before. Finally, they stood before a nondescript door, a simple brass plaque proclaiming:

**James Boyster**

Heero paused, as his eyes swept over the small team, taking in each face and resting on Duo, who looked back at the strong, determined features. Had Heero cooled off during the long drive? Calmed down a bit? Nope. Heero Yuy was as pissed as hell and someone was going to get it in the neck. As tired as he was, as much as he hurting soul and mind and body, Duo couldn't help but feel absurdly, blessedly and triumphantly relieved that for once in his damned life it wasn't going to be him. A grin crept across his battered face as Heero wrenched the door open and stalked in without bothering to knock. Violet eyes flickered upwards to meet green, as the grin became wicked and the door shut with a snap behind them.

"This is gonna be fun!"

* * *

He had finally given in to Trowa's quiet insistence and was sitting wearily in a chair, trying to control his troubled breathing. Trowa could be bloody stubborn, but could Boyster, so it seemed. They had reached a deadlock. Boyster had finally clamped after a furious confrontation, leaving them just short of the proof they needed. Duo squinted at Wufei's face as the Chinese boy looked sternly at the government official seated behind a solid oak desk, then tossed the letter he was holding down, snarling in disgust.

"Che! Why do you continue this stubbornness, official? Your guilt is implicit in this letter of military discharge."

Heero spoke up, his voice colder than Duo had ever heard it.

"You knew. You knew Mallinson was unsuited to the task of guardianship. You searched him out!"

Duo had to hand it to the man; Boyster knew how to keep his nerve. The man was leaning forward, face carefully blank.

"And what exactly are you going to do? Tell the world about me? The moment you step outside this room you will find yourselves in a world were the Gundam pilots are despised and doubted. You truly believe this will set you free? Believe me, if the governments continue thinking the way they have been then you'll never walk amongst free society again."

The only reaction amongst the pilots towards this dire prediction came from Quatre, who narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

"You are working for someone else."

Chuckling softly, Duo glanced up.

"Wasn't that obvious?"

He received five glares. Evidently Maxwell style humour wasn't appreciated in tense situations, even during peacetime. Silence fell once more as the golden evening sun fell through the windows and across the carpet, catching dust motes in its path. Silence fell, along with uncertainty. Because, truth be told, Duo could tell from his friends' faces that they were as uncertain of the state of the politics of the world and colonies as he was. For all they knew, Boyster was telling the truth and the situation was primed to explode against them. For at least half the population they had been feared terrorists, not freedom fighters. Duo doubted that any of them had missed the prominent Gundam attack poster pinned in the medical room at the school. And, to make things worse, if they didn't get the political backing they needed, the evidence they had found and Duo's state wasn't going to kick it.

A sudden movement in the hallway drew their attention, as soft footfalls drew nearer to the closed door. There was a click and gun, which Heero had found in Boyster's draw, was drawn, pointing steadily at the door. He stared steadily at the wooden panels.

"We stay together. Even if we have to go on the run to do it."

There was a firm knock on the door. Heero's voice was as sure as rock.

"Enter."

* * *

They had worked at a furious pace, pulling every contact they knew, every favour they had. And they had pulled it off. The political world, it seemed, had still not yet realised the potential of Relena Peacecraft. But her brother had, and now was the time to use that potential to its fullest.

Millardo Peacecraft, otherwise known as Zechs Marquise, raised his right hand, encased in a fine deerskin glove, to a panelled wooden door, pausing momentarily before knocking sharply. Moments later a monotone voice called out,

"Enter."

And alarm bells went off in his head, rising to a pitch as the door opened on to the wrong end of a gun. It took a bare second to register the situation before aristocratic eyebrows rose in well-mannered surprise.

"Good day, Mr Boyster. I would apologise for the unannounced visit, however it appears you already have company." As his deep, modulate voice faded he was mildly satisfied to see surprise played out on the six faces before him. It wasn't often he managed to get one up on the pilots.

"Zechs." Heero stated bluntly. Any humour Zechs felt vanished as he nodded gravely to his former adversary and watched the gun being lowers and tucked away into safekeeping.

"I can see what you are trying to do." Boyster spoke sharply, evidently still unsettled by his unexpected appearance. "And I assure you, it will not work."

"Why, whatever do you mean, man?" Zechs inquired casually. "I was merely passing by and thought to drop in to pay my respects. It is always good to stay in touch, don't you think. After all circumstance changes so quickly in this day and age."

"What do you mean?" Boyster said, curiosity and exasperation tingling his voice.

"You haven't seen the latest developments, have you, my friend?" Zechs remarked as he crossed over to the televisions, flicking the channel onto the political news. There was a sweep of long honey blonde hair and Relena's voice filled the room, talking with clear conviction. The shot panned out to the nodding support of key figures in the peacemaking process. Zechs smiled and lower the volume.

"A piece of advice, Mr Boyster. Never take your eye off the ball. Not for a second even. Politics change fast and the situation had change indeed."

Boyster's face was ashen as he stared at what was quite possibly the ruin of his career. Zechs almost felt pity for the man. Almost. Then Quatre, with his intuitive sense of timing, stepped in.

"Mr Boyster, it is somewhat evident that you're not the driving force of events. Perhaps a useful way of minimising the damage to yourself would to be co-operative?"

As he watched the official glance resignedly around the calm faces of the five pilots and nod his defeat, Zechs could not help feeling the wave of admiration towards them. He rather doubted that without their prior actions, his alone would have brought Boyster to this point. The government official sighed.

"I'll tell all."

* * *

In many ways, Zechs was astounded that none of them, himself included, had failed to predict it. But then only gods and prophets were blessed with foresight, as the saying went. A freshly defeated Mr Boyster proved very communicative. It seemed that several high ranking OZ officials who had survived Treize's fall, alongside various governments and regimes who had been sympathetic towards the OZ cause, had formed a political faction, working quietly to bring the Gundam pilots to their version of justice and to remove the threat of their presence, thus creating room for further political manoeuvre and, perhaps, an insurgence. Boyster, through a convoluted mixture of contacts, fortune and raw political ambition, had wound up as conductor of events and had hand picked Duo Maxwell and ex-sergeant Timothy Mallinson as a likely combustible couple. What he had failed to pick up on was Duo's infamous streak of stubbornness and the strength of friendship and loyalty between the Gundam pilots. And now, after various phone calls and photocopies, the case was tied up tighter than a spacesuit. Thanks to Boyster's co-operation, all the major players had no way out. Yet the price, in Zechs' eyes, was almost too high. Almost four hours after his entry, he was leaning against the desk and able, for the first time, to take a closer look at the five pilots.

And the cost of it showed. It showed in every line, every shadow and every frown on those tired faces. It showed on every bruise, every cut and every scrape on Duo's pale face. The cost of peace and the cost of selfish, cold hearted political ambition.

Boyster was gone. Taken in for further questioning along with Mr Locks, a biology teacher from Pensby High, who was to give evidence to the abuse Duo had undergone, and the study was suddenly buzzing with silence.

"It seems we're done, at least for the moment." Zechs announced to the room at large. Duo's lopsided smile was half-hearted from exhaustion.

"Looks like we owe ya big time, man."

Zechs shook his head.

"Hardly. Besides it's as well this faction was discovered sooner rather than later. Think how much more damage could have been done."

"They wont be the last though." Wufei muttered. The room sank once more into silence. Finally Heero stirred and glanced around in a show of uncharacteristic uncertainty.

"We need to find somewhere to stay for the night."

"Relena has offered that you stay at one of her houses, not too far from here." Zechs cut in. "And I think you may well find some friends who have been highly instrumental in all this."

He couldn't help but smile sadly to see the relief on their faces.

"Who?" inquired Quatre tentatively as they began to stand.

"Rashid, for one. Noin, Major Sally Po, Howard, Catherine…"

"Catherine?" Trowa suddenly looked up. "How is she?"

A choked gasp snatched at their attention as it stuttered into deep wet coughs. An alarmingly white Duo was staggering away from a concerned Quatre, clenched fist pressed to bloodied lips, grating out between coughs,

"Q, 'm fine. Stop worryin'."

Then suddenly Heero and Trowa were moving like lightening to the small American's side as he fell in mid-sentence, body twisting to crack his head against the edge of the chair, to lie as still as death on the carpeted floor.

**To Be Continued…**


	14. The End and The Beginning

**Disclaimer:** See first chapter 

**Warnings:** Swearing, angst, references to child abuse, moonlight walks and much wetness!

**A/N:** The final chapter! Can't believe this is actually done! This has to be the longest thing I have ever written, including my uni work (probably not a good thing!) I know I say this every week and I can't think of a way to say it afresh, but thank you, thank you, thank you, for all your interest, comments, reviews and encouragement. Its so lovely that you even take the time to read this, let alone actually say something on it! So thank you so much. I've really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you've enjoyed reading it! This did take awhile to get up, partly because life is hectic, but I did want to make sure that you all got best final chapter possible! Big thank you for all the help I got on this chapter – for the most excellent suggestions, grammar corrections and encouragement!

As always, let me know what you think – on the chapter and the story overall!

* * *

**The Tribulations of Peace **

**By Corralero**

_ The Preventer Organisation has held an illustrious history from its first beginnings. Based in the Sanq Kingdom, the Preventers was born with the specific mission of peacekeeping within the countries and space colonies affected by the Gundam Wars. Influenced by key political and military minds of the time, such as Relena Peacecraft, Millardo Peacecraft (a.k.a. Zechs Marquise), Colonel Une and Lieutenant Noin. The Preventers has been praised as one of the few institutions to have effectively and truthfully have kept the peace, in keeping a strong tradition of unity and innovation alongside an unprecedented and unbeaten lack of internal corruption. Evidently the Prevents owes much of its success and reputation to the high calibre of officers and employees in all of its divisions, the most sterling examples of which must be the captains Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell, Trowa Barton, Quatre Raberba-Winner and Wufei Chang, all of who enjoyed the most distinctive of careers in the Preventer's earliest of days… _

(Extract taken from R. Hicks_, The Cambridge Analysis of Peacekeeping Organisations)_

**Chapter Fourteen **

**The End and The Beginning**

_Back up, back up. Give him space. Someone call 911……………I'll get security. Hello…….…ambulance please. Pass me that cushion……………He needs a blanket…………….. Keep him warm…….…Get hold of Sally Po…………The front desk called. The ambulance is here…………His name, sir. And his date of birth. Duo Maxwell. And he doesn't have one. I see…………Do you know his approximate age? Sixteen. And who shall we contact as his legal guardians? Well, we're not entirely sure……..…Looks like we may have multiple breaks to several ribs. And possible diagnosis of a punctured right lung……..……..Got any explanation of how these injuries occurred?………Put him on a saline drip. He's severely dehydrated…One…two…three…and lift……….Pulse slow but stable. ………….No responsiveness………….I will travel with him. We'll follow on. See you in the hospital. Sally says she'll meet us there…………_

He woke slowly to the sound of a steady, sluggish beeping, and lay still, keeping his breathing even, feeling a deep pain in his chest. Where the hell was he? Ok, facts. He was lying flat on his back and felt as though he had been steamrollered. Shit, had OZ got him? There were no restraints, and the idea of capture somehow didn't sit right with him. Why? Because the friggin' war was over. Dumbass. Crap, he was stupid sometimes. So, where was he? Think. Mallinson. Fuckin' idiot. School. Elevator shaft. Boyster's office. Red carpet…oh. Yeah. So hospital was probably going to be a good guess.

Feeling remarkably pleased with his powers of deduction, Duo finally cracked his eyes open to take in a plain hospital room and immediately heard a soft intake of breath to his right.

"Every time. How do you boys do that?"

Despite his battered face, Duo couldn't help grinning. Damn, it felt good to hear that voice.

"Do wha'?" The attempt at an innocent query sounded more like a bullfrog barking. Sally Po immediately held a straw to his mouth and he sipped gratefully at the cool liquid. Her cheeks dimpled in exasperated humour.

"How long have you been awake? That trick of yours stumps me and the monitors both."

Duo let the straw go.

"Picked up a few tricks from Heero."

She snorted as she moved efficiency around his bed, checking the monitors and IV lines. He stared down at the chest tube leading from his chest to the drainer on the side, and felt the drugs swirling around his body and mind. He hated hospitals.

"I thought that boy was a bad influence," she muttered, clearly remembering their first meeting.

"Normally, people sayin' that 'bout me," Duo informed her, as she peered into his eyes with a penlight.

She merely smiled. Duo glanced round the room, searching for a clock.

"How long have I been out?"

"It's 8.00 the following morning. So about ten hours. You were in a pretty poor state, Duo. The injuries you sustained during your run in with Mr Mallinson were aggravated by the later physical activity, especially the three sets of double-breaks to your ribs. Between climbing that elevator shaft, and all that coughing, you managed to puncture your right lung with one of the bone fragments. On top of that your notes read concussion, dehydration and exhaustion…Well, in all truth, it's surprising you didn't collapse earlier. You boys never know when to stop, do you?" She finished her tirade with a glare. Duo merely gave awkward shrug.

"C'mon, Sally, had worse, done worse. 'Sides, it was kinda an emergency."

Sally's face suddenly fell.

"Yes, I know. It's just…" She sat, perched on the edge of his bed, head bowed for a moment. "I saw your back, Duo," he recoiled slightly and then stared at the look of mingled fury and sorrow on her face as she looked at him once more. "I…I'm so sorry that happened, so sorry we didn't stop it in time…"

"Hey…" he wasn't quite sure how to handle this tearful Sally. She let out an angry little laugh.

"Who does that? Who the hell does that? I'm telling you, Duo, if I ever come across that bastard, I'm kicking his ass to China and back again," she flushed as Duo's surprised and delighted expression, putting her head on to one side as she let out a shaky sight and reached out to cup his bruised face. "I'm sorry, Duo. It's just good to have you all back with us. These last few weeks have been…and when I saw you all in the treatment room…" She stopped abruptly with an odd, choked laugh, moving her hand up to brush Duo's long fringe back from his forehead. Removing the hand, she gave another odd laugh.

"I'm sorry, Duo."

Despite the fact that he was wondering whether his face was now a motley mixture of purple, black, blue and bright bright red, Duo gave an awkward smile, grabbing the doctor's hand.

"Na, Sal', no worries. We missed you loads and all too, 'specially Wu-man, 'though he's never gonna say it."

He moved his hand to itch his nose uncertainly, and glanced around the room once more, frowning as a disconcerting thought struck him.

"Where are the guys?"

Sally visibly started, a guilty look spreading across her face as she fumbled for her pager.

"Great. I promised I'd tell them the moment you were awake. They stayed for as long as they could, getting under my feet as usual, but they were finally dragged away to deal with the international ruckus you and those Peacecrafts managed to cause between you." She was speaking in her normal brisk fashion again. Tucking her pager safely away once more, she looked up.

"They'll be here soon."

"Cool." Despite himself, Duo had been anxious. He wasn't exactly sure where he stood with his fellow pilots. It still hurt to think back on the last few weeks, but he sure as hell wanted the others close now. Suddenly tired, he gave an involuntary yawn as he fought to keep his eyes open. Perhaps Sally saw his turmoil, as she dimmed the lights, pulling the blankets higher up to his chin.

"Your body's still recovering, Duo. Get some rest. I promise you they'll be here when you wake up."

And so they were. He couldn't have slept for long for, when he woke, it was to Heero's stern features. His best friend gave him a small smile and Duo felt a dizzying wave of relief. He was absurdly thankful that his fellow pilots were still here, his dreams having been filled with wordless fears that they had left, gone back to their foster homes, to their colonies, had dispersed across the world without him. But Heero was here and studying him closely.

"Status?"

But it was quietly said, questioning, not the usual bark he'd snapped out so many times during combat. Duo smiled, slowly manoeuvring himself to relieve the pressure on his back.

"Getting' there."

Heero's face was unnervingly blank.

"It was too much."

He spoke abruptly, the words jerking out as the blank mask wavered and deep concern and guilt slipped through the cracks.

"I pushed you too hard. That is why you collapsed. Exhaustion. Dehydration. A punctured lung."

Duo shook his head tiredly. He wasn't sure he wanted to start pointing fingers yet. Or ever. Sometimes it just wasn't worth it.

"It don' matter. I was pushin' as much as anyone."

Heero just shook his head as the braided pilot let his eyes drift towards the closed door. "How's it goin' out there?" His voice was tentative, uncertain, as he suddenly remembered the 'slight' situation in hand.

Heero's smile was grim, "Do not concern yourself, Duo. The situation is being handled."

A frown crept between Duo's brows. "The situation is being handled?" he echoed suspiciously. What the hell did that mean? "Wha' situation? Wha' gonna happen wit' us?" What wasn't Heero saying? The Perfect Solider frowned back. Why was he frowning? Inwardly, Duo cursed, his thoughts trailing and spinning over the last few hours. What did happen? They got to Boyster's office and then…then…did they get what they wanted? Duo searched his memory, trying desperately to remember. Blonde hair…Zechs…but that didn't make sense. Why would Zechs be there when he didn't even know where they were? So what wasn't Heero telling him? He suddenly realised Heero was speaking, but his tone was calm, too calm….

Heero looked carefully at his best friend, concern dragging at him so much it hurt. Duo had nearly died. Those four words had run round and round his head like a mantra. In the ambulance, his condition had worsened and the paramedics had been forced to conduct an intubation. Duo had nearly died. He had nearly lost his closest comrade. And Duo looked awful. Pale and small in the hospital bed, with his eyes still dazed from the medication. He clearly was not thinking straight, and even as Heero watched, Duo's face was pulled into a frown as he spoke, his voice slurred. Heero frowned at his questions, wishing he could allay his friend's fears. "Wha' situation?" He spoke again, trying to calm him.

"Duo, it is fine. We are working on it. Wufei and Mr Locks are handling the claims against Mallinson, and the others are in meetings at the moment. Everything is fine. Do not worry."

He was talking like how Trowa talked to his lions. What was he hiding? Duo snarled, panic and fear manifesting into anger. "Damn it, stop messin' me around an' tell me wha' the hell is goin' on! I may be injured but I ain't thick." He watched Heero hesitate, his eyes flickering to Duo's monitors as his heart rate sped up, and snorted in frustration. "Fuck it, Yuy! Spit it out. I don' care wha' them paper shovin' bastards think no more. I ain't 'fraid of 'em." He moved convulsively to push himself further up and gasped as jolts of pain sent a clear message to his brain that his body wasn't ready to go anywhere anytime soon. Heero apparently agreed, as alarm flashed through his eyes.

Heero hesitated, confused and unsure how to react as the feisty American snarled at him. Why was Duo acting like this? Did he not understand? Then panic flared as Duo moved to push himself upright, hands pulling at the IV wires in his wrists.

"Duo, stop!" His hands shot out to press Duo gently back onto the bed and holding him still, as the stern tone caused the injured boy to freeze instinctively. "It is fine…"

Duo glared up at him. "Damit, it's NOT fine! Not if it all just goin' ta pot. I ain't just gonna lie here while ya all out in th' firin' line an' gettin' it in th' neck. Not gonna sit here if ya need me. Lemme up!"

But Heero didn't shift his hands and Duo eventually gave in, panting with pain. The 01 pilot shut his eyes briefly. "Duo, please, calm down. I am sorry. You misread the situation. Boyster and Mallinson are in custody and the governments are now highly co-operative. It is going well. Truly." The two stared at one another for a moment, at the heart monitor gradually settled once more.

That was it. A misunderstanding. That was all. He could have kicked himself. Duo always did tease him that relational communication was not his strongest point. Heero stared at Duo, feeling his own heart beat settle back down, checking his friend understood him and then backing off.

"Oh…" Embarrassed and slightly bemused, it was all Duo could manage. A tint of humour entered Heero's cold eyes as relief set in. "After a general risk assessment, we agreed we held the appropriate abilities to handle a few bureaucrats without you."

Duo raised an eyebrow. "Really? Dunno, man. Not sure ya can cope wit th' pressures of politics. I mean, lookit ya. You're kinda suicidal, while Quatre's occasionally homicidal. Trowa ain't got th' jaw for th' job, an' in case ya wonderin' were I got all those fancy words from, it's from Wu-man who's got th' justice stick so thick for a spine, he ain't never gonna turn quick enough to catch a dirty deal. So, ya wonder why I worried?"

Heero's reply to the banter was cut short as the door opened, but Duo heard his warm laugh of relief and snorted. Heero always did choose the weirdest times to get a sense of humour. Then suddenly his vision was full of enthusiastic Arabian, as Quatre rushed to Duo's side, while Trowa and Wufei followed more sedately.

"You're awake!"

Duo glanced over to the other's faces. There was a humorous glint in Trowa's one visible eye, and calmness to Wufei's expression that had been missing for too long.

Quatre was rushing on, "Everyone else is on their way now, but we wanted to get here first…"

"To run something by you," Trowa cut in. The corners of the mercenary's mouth were turned upwards.

Duo raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Shoot," he said.

Heero joined in. "There is much to be achieved before we are accepted completely into a peaceful, civilised society. But we have decided that this no longer a pressing priority. Our top priority is to find time to heal and recover ourselves."

Duo stared at his best friend's neutral face suspiciously, feeling the beginnings of excitement coiling in his gut.

"Go on."

Wufei coughed. "It seems peace is somewhat more of a tribulation than we thought," he commented dryly. Duo looked from face to face, his eyes suddenly alight.

"So we're like goin' on holiday or somethin'?"

Quatre burst in, apparently unable to contain himself any longer. "Duo, do you remember our last safehouse on Earth? My family's house in Trinidad? We only stayed there for a few days."

Duo nodded breathlessly. Those few days held some of his happiest memories.

Quatre went on. "It's ours. All five of us. For ever. Or for as long as we want, as long as we need to recover. Our friends and families are free to come visit us and no one is to bother us unless we choose."

There was a moment's silence.

"What do you think?" There was only the slightest edge of anxiety in Heero's measured voice. The slight, battered figure sitting in the centre of the bed finally looked up, violet eyes open and vulnerable.

"All of us? All five of us together?"

They nodded in unionism.

"And we'd get ta see Howard an' Sally an' stuff?"

They nodded again.

Duo tilted his head back, resting it against the pillow, his eyes sliding shut in contentment. His face lit with a bright smile as he breathed out, "Dude, that's so awesome!"

And suddenly the tension eased and the conversation began to flow as the light of anticipation and excitement grew stronger behind young eyes.

* * *

One year later…

Duo was walking barefoot down a winding sandy path that led up from the beach to the house. The path was pleasant, well known and well-trod, and the sand was soft beneath his toes. Clad only in faded surfing shorts, he stretched his arms behind his head, gazing up into the clear blue sky, and embracing the warm breeze playing on his face. His lean body was tanned and toned from the sun and the outdoors lifestyle, except for the pale scars that traced his form, each one telling a battle and story of their own. But he didn't mind the scars. The five of them had accepted them philosophically as badges of life, along with the soldier's knowledge that it could have been worse, a lot worse – an eye, a limb, a life. Scars were nothing to be ashamed of. The internal scars and wounds had been far harder to accept, not the least of these being the subtle and painful damage done to their band of brothers during the whole post-war foster-care fiasco. But what the hell, they had coped. They had laughed about it, and fought about it and yelled and sworn and even, occasionally, cried about it. Got it out of their systems and then healed, taking what was good from the situation – relishing their relative safety and freedom in this new world of peace, the contact and care from friends and family, and the unexpected joy of new support from a certain teacher, and the other foster-carers who had given their homes to Heero, Trowa, Quatre and Wufei. And they had relaxed. And bloody enjoyed themselves learning how to live in what had to be the most laid-back and peaceful island on the whole damn planet.

Trinidad. Sure, it had its share of hardships from the wars, where didn't? But the people here were so laid-back they were horizontal. Duo was right in there, getting along famously with the locals, and thoroughly enjoying the attention of the girls. Before long he was a true Trinidadian in nearly every sense of the word. The community had been generous and open with their new and unusual neighbours. The teenagers' unusual past seemed to have no impact on the locals' treatment of them whatsoever. Even Heero's patented death glare appeared to have been nullified, as they found out much to the others' mirth, after the 01 pilot was faced down by a placidly cheerful old man. The confrontation resulted in a grudging respect, on Heero's part, and a strange friendship. Heero had taken to playing chess once a week with the old man, on a rickety old table on the dusty roadside.

They filled their time with random pursuits. Trowa discovered a love of fishing. Admittedly, it was with a spear, but still he was good, regularly bringing back his catches for evening barbeques. When he wasn't playing chess, Heero became absorbed with Quatre's old hobby of bird-watching, the two of them spending hours in the thick tropical forests, while Wufei was able to return to his beloved books. Swotting, in Duo's humble opinion.

So they lived and healed, and learnt to slow their lives down to the point when even the clock stopped, just long enough to feel the itch.

That itch to see a little more of the world, to meet a few more people. To see the world from the angle of peace and not from the windscreen of a gundam. To meet people as themselves, not as terrorists on the run. The curiosity that prickled whenever Relena, Noin or Zechs spoke of international events and affairs. The desire for a challenge that was not satisfied by helping the old fisherman update his motorboat, stripping down his machine in less than an hour and putting it back together so powerfully that, the first time he used it, it lifted out of the water and pulled his afro back straight. That sudden longing for the thrill of excitement and adrenaline, to push themselves to the limit again, that was stirred but not filled as they raced each other on speedboats. That itch to work side by side once more.

Duo smiled as he reached the house. Who were they kidding? Not themselves, and certainly not their friends. He had learnt to live in a world he never truly thought he'd be alive to see - a world of peace - and had discovered much he never believed would be his, life, peace, security – so much that so many took for a given. He'd had time to get his head straight, learn about himself, his brothers and his friends, and slowly work out what it was he had done because he had been forced to and what he had done because he believed in it. The Gundam pilots still had a place in the world - a role and responsibility - and part of him still acknowledged its relevance.

Duo couldn't speak for the others, but, to be blunt, he was bored. Yeah, he still had nightmares and shit, yeah, he still found himself diving for cover occasionally when a car backfired (which happened far too often in Trinidad) but, damn, he was bored.

_Howard and Hilde had looked at him in confusion and concern when he had first told them. They had come over for the day and the three of them were wandering down the shoreline in the moonlight, surrounded by the silver sands and the dark, sighing waters._

"_But…what do you want to do?" Hilde asked uncertainly. _

_He slung an arm around her shoulders and hugged her close. "Dunno yet, but loungin' 'round a beach ain't gonna crack it." _

"_Kid," Howard's face was wary, "You've all done great this last year, you most of all, but there's still so much…"_

_It was amazing how the concern still lit a deep, contented glow within him where the street-rat still stood, wide-eyed and incredulous that people like this actually cared for someone like him. Even as he cut the sweeper captain off with a laugh, his deep appreciation showed in his eyes. "Chill, Howie. I ain't gonna climb inta Deathscythe all trigger-happy, but c'mon, gimme some cred. This…" he gestured around him, "has been awesome, but th' world keeps on turnin' an' I wanna get back on. 'Sides," he added mischievously, "I bet ol' Unne's email accounts have been left in peace for far too long."_

_Hilde's eyes were popping comically. "That was you?!" She accused, then broke into laughter. "It's all water off a duck's back with you, isn't it, Duo?"_

"_No shit." the 02 pilot returned. "If ya take on all th' water, ya gonna sink when th' oil hits," he declared cheerfully._

A sudden yell followed by a long burst of highly creative Chinese cursing echoed out from the courtyard, breaking Duo's musings. Snickering to himself, he watched the victim of his boredom emerge into the sun, dripping wet.

"Maxwell!"

Grinning broadly, Duo watched Wufei cautiously as he approached, checking the 05 pilot wasn't carrying his katana.

"That bucket nearly took my head off!"

The finger of justice was pointed accusingly in Duo's face.

"Wha' bucket?" Duo wondered out loud, working the wide-eyed look.

"The red bucket, filled with water and ice," Wufei replied through gritted teeth.

"Man, the ice lasted that long?…umm, I mean, which bucket?"

Cover blown, Duo did what he did best, turned tail and ran, straight past Heero and Trowa, as they returned from town, with a furious Chang hot on his tail. Dithering for a moment, he turned towards the outside pool, then gulped as he saw Rashid had locked the other exit. Turning to face down the dragon, he held out his hands in a placating manner.

"Aww, c'mon Wu. It was a gift. Bit of thoughtfulness, y'know. Thought ya'd be all hot an' tired from…um…studyin'?"

Man, he was out of practise. The attempt at reasoning didn't work. Wufei struck, not unlike his Gundam's dragon claw. Duo had a brief uninterrupted view of blue sky, as he flipped through the air to land with an almighty splash in the pool. Spluttering, he surfaced to tread water, pawing his hair from his eyes. When he looked up, Wufei was still there, laughing down at him. Duo grinned good-naturedly back, relishing the change in the proud Chinese boy. During the war, Wufei would have chucked him in (probably along with a bag of cement) and then stalked off in high dudgeon for a day or two.

"I think my honour is avenged," Wufei commented, and then choked as Duo squirted water from his mouth at Wufei's face in retaliation then prudently scooted swiftly out of reach, floating in the centre of the pool.

"Your hygiene is disgusting, Maxwell," Wufei complained, although without heat.

"I agree." The pair looked up to find Trowa and Heero standing by.

"That was rather disgusting, Duo," Trowa commented mildly.

"Great, isn't it?" was the cheerful response.

The three teenagers seated themselves at the pool-edge, legs dangling into the cool water. There was a quiet shuffling sound as Heero edged slightly away from the soaked Wufei, who glared at the action.

"How was the fishing?" Duo inquired.

"We didn't go," Trowa returned "We got some mail from the post office."

Duo grabbed hold of a drifting donut ring and struggled into it.

"Anythin' exciting?" He drifted slowly towards them.

"Yes," Heero replied pensively, obviously preoccupied. Duo's eyes met with green and black, and his smile grew wicked. It wasn't often you got a distracted Perfect Soldier.

"Uh-huh?" he prompted, stopping the ring in front of Heero. "Who from?"

"Noin. Where is Quatre? This is something of interest to us all."

"Yeah? Look, he's just comin'." Duo lifted a lazy arm to point. Heero turned his head in the direction indicated…and they struck. Quick as a snake, Duo lunged forward, latching onto a fistful of tank top, as two arms propelled Heero forward with a powerful shove. Seconds later, the Wing pilot broke the surface, cursing in Japanese and, interestingly, Mongolian. Trowa must have been teaching him, Duo thought irrelevantly, as he backed hastily away from the murderous gaze that swept over the laughing trio then landed on Wufei, who was promptly seized in an iron grip. He just as promptly latched onto Trowa and the pair was dragged into the water.

Half an hour later, with one battle of water won or lost, depending on your perspective, the five pilots were on dry land once more. They had been inadvertently joined by an unfortunate and bemused Quatre, who had been bodily set upon entering the pool area.

They had wound up in the spacious living room; sitting in peaceful quite together before getting ready for the evening meal, with the patio doors flung wide open into the gentle dusk. Duo looked up from a mechanical problem he was puzzling over with Trowa as sudden thought struck him.

"So, wha' was that thing Noin mentioned, then?" Duo inquired, referring to the earlier, aborted conversation.

Heero looked up from a letter to Relena.

"The Preventers," he answered simply. "Some new idea of Une's. She and Zechs are coming over tonight for dinner to talk about it…"

**The End…**


End file.
